


The Spies Who Came In From The Cold

by Davechicken, Shadow_Side



Series: Tevinter Templar Soldier Spy [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Non-Consent, Consent Play, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 08:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30019140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Side/pseuds/Shadow_Side
Summary: On their way to confront Alexius in Redcliffe, Dorian and Bull instead run into Lavellan, Herald of Andraste, and her group from the fledgling Inquisition. Realising their goals are aligned, they join up at once, but taking down Alexius will only be the first step towards preventing a very dark future indeed, and one in which Corypheus is not the only threat...
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), The Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Series: Tevinter Templar Soldier Spy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2143959
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ...and we're back!
> 
> This one is still a work in progress, but we've got a good chunk of it done already so will be posting in stages as we go. And, as ever, we hope you enjoy! :-)

Dorian is looking forward to going indoors.

Even though he knows who might be waiting for them – who almost certainly _is_ – waiting for them within the walls of the Gull and Lantern, it will at least be _warm_ in there.

So he's perhaps a little put-out when he hears someone hissing his name from the side of the building. The _out_ side of the building.

"Dorian..! Hey, Dorian!"

He looks to the right and sees, just hidden behind the edge of the tavern, Felix Alexius. Trying to be stealthy and only sort of managing it.

"Over here, quick!"

"…How do I know your father didn't put you up to this?"

Felix looks a little hurt, but mostly understanding. "He didn't, I promise. He doesn't know I'm out here. Just like… just like he never knew I used to sneak you sweets when you were studying. You remember… the ones with the candied ginger?"

He wouldn't mention that if this was a trick. Dorian is sure of it.

"I remember," he says, softly. "All right."

He gives Bull a please-come-with-me look, very much not wanting to have this conversation without him there, and heads off to join Felix behind the tavern.

"Go listen to them inside, but be subtle," Bull tells the Chargers, and puts his hands near his belt. Not trying to look threatening, but trying to look ready. He's not sure how much Felix is going to like him, considering. 

Felix seems very, very wary of Bull, and backs off more than a little when they're all out of sight, holding his hands up.

"Don't… don't do anything hasty," he says. "What happened in Amaranthine… I didn't want any of that."

"I know you didn't," Dorian replies, quickly. "I'm not angry with you, but I am worried."

"Yeah, and – for the record – my guys were all told not to harm you. And I had no intention of doing it," Bull adds on. "Was trying to control or de-escalate without further violence."

This makes Felix look a little calmer, but he's clearly still very wound-up about something.

"My father… he… do you know what he's done?"

Dorian decides to just go for broke. "He made the amulet work, didn't he? He travelled through time?"

Felix nods. "Yes. Something about the rifts… he was able to use it to power the amulet up enough, and overcome the last of the problems he'd been having. We've… been here in Redcliffe for two weeks, now. There's a large group of southern mages gathered here, and my father staged an attack by templars. Turned up at the 'last minute' to save the mages. And now… Dorian… the whole lot of them have sworn themselves to him, as indentured servants."

" _Kaffas_ ," Dorian mutters. "That… is a whole world of not good."

"Can I ask what could be a really, really stupid question?" Bull leans back against the wall. "Couldn't you… steal it, and go… further back and stop him doing that? How does it even work?"

This makes Dorian look – and feel – like he's getting a headache, and flashback to some _very_ complex conversations he had with Gereon that involved more diagrams than even he was happy with. And rather a lot of string.

"In simple terms… no," he tries, hoping a short, string-free answer will be sufficient. "Your past is fixed. It happened the way it happened. You could go into the future to see what _will_ happen, and then come back and try to change it, but you can't change your own past. Because you didn't. So… if we went back to stop Alexius using the amulet in the first place, we wouldn't be having this conversation, because he'd never have used it, and…"

Dorian trails off, realising he's doing precisely what he set out not to do.

"…we can't change what happened," he re-iterates. "Just trust me on that."

"This is why I became a mathematician," Felix murmurs.

"If it's 'no', then okay. So we go forwards and see if we did the right thing, then do it?" Bull isn't as dumb as everyone thinks he is. He might not have the ability to use or do a lot of this stuff, but once he understands how things work, he can use them. 

"That… could work," Dorian replies. "Assuming I could figure out how to activate the amulet… which, I mean, yes, I'm sure I can…"

His mind is racing, trying to remember everything about the time he spent studying it with Alexius. Only then the memories get too much, so he pulls his thoughts back to the here and now, realising he needs to focus.

"There's another problem," Felix cuts in, nervously. "You… heard about the destruction of the Conclave? And the formation of the Inquisition?"

Dorian nods. "Yes. Mostly rumours and the like, but enough to know it's serious."

"It's worse than serious," Felix replies. "It's Corypheus. I don't know all the details – my father won't tell me – but I know it was him, and the Venatori. And allegedly some Grey Wardens. But it didn't go the way it was supposed to. There's a breach in the Veil, yes, but it was supposed to be destroyed completely. But it wasn't, because someone – a Dalish woman – did something, and now she's with the Inquisition, and everyone thinks she was sent by Andraste. And she's got something on her hand. Something that closes Fade rifts. Something my father wants, very badly."

"Wait… what?" Bull lifts a hand in protest. That's far, far too much. "Dalish? Andraste? Those two don't exactly go together. And – why would anyone want the Veil destroyed? Help me out here, guys…"

"I was going to ask the same," Dorian concurs. "At least, the first part. I… know why someone might want the Veil destroyed. It's the barrier between our world and the Fade. Without it… the two can bleed into each other, and people could pass freely between them, and… _vishante kaffas_ , that's what he wants, isn't it? Corypheus? He's trying to get back to the Black City, in the flesh."

Felix nods. "That's what it looks like. My father won't tell me a lot, but I hear things and I'm not stupid. And the woman… they're calling her the Herald of Andraste, which apparently doesn't sit well with her because she's Dalish. She was at the Conclave on behalf of her clan, and was the only survivor. Witnesses said they saw her being delivered back through a Fade rift by another woman… who they're saying was Andraste herself."

Bull lifts a finger. Then pulls it to his lips. Then lifts… then… "Nope. Okay. I got nothing. Not yet, anyway."

It's just a little bit too weird for his mind to wrap around. Time travel and Darkspawn Magisters was bad enough, now there's Andrastian Dalish and… Andraste and… the Fade… 

"Yeah, just tell me what to hit, and when, if that's alright with you."

Dorian is now absolutely sure, right in his gut, that the woman he saw earlier is this so-called Herald. Which presents another problem… but also an opportunity.

"I think she's here," he says. "And if I had to put money on it… I'd say she's here for the Circle mages. Great big hole in the sky? Going to need a lot of firepower to close it."

"We got word she was coming this morning," Felix confirms. "What she'll make of my father… I don't know."

"We need to talk to her," Dorian says. "It's important. It… Felix… I know it's asking a lot, but can you slip her a message? When your father isn't looking?"

Felix nods again. "I can do that. I… yes. All right. I'll do it. Where shall I tell her to meet you?"

Dorian gestures back down the road. "The Chantry," he replies. "It should be quiet enough. We can wait there."

"Good idea," Felix agrees. "You should go before any of my father's people see you. I'll try to slip out too, and join you. In case there's anything else I can do to help."

That makes Dorian's chest ache. "You're a good man, Felix. I still haven't had the chance to thank you for helping Bull save my life. He told me the story. I know you're taking a huge risk on my behalf, and I just want you to know… I'm grateful."

"I'm just doing what's right," Felix replies. "I like to think I learned some of that from you."

Bull snorts. "Now I know three of you. Good Vint guys, I mean." He hesitates a moment, then offers an empty hand. "We… good?"

This gets him a surprised look from Felix, followed by a cautious handshake. "We're good. I know you were only doing what you had to do. And… I also know you saved Dorian's life. Which is enough for me."

He steps away, expression torn. "I should get back in there. I'll get a message to the Herald, and I'll try to meet you in the Chantry later. But don't worry if I don't make it, I may not be able to slip away from my father."

Dorian nods. "All right. Be careful."

"I will," Felix promises, and hurries off.

Bull squints at Dorian. "Guess we better sneak into the Chantry. And… well. Tell me when we're there. I know better than anyone that streets have ears. And tongues."

"Good plan," Dorian agrees. "Come on…"

***

They make their way down to the Chantry, slipping inside. There's no one else around, which is good, because it gives Dorian a moment to think without having to make excuses to some suspicious Chantry sister. The southern ones do have a tendency to look at him like he's a heretic, which is unfair, because he isn't.

It's a pretty building, though; repaired following the damage it took during the Battle of Redcliffe a decade ago, and now in lovingly-maintained shape. The air is cool, and heavy with the scent of candles, and this… this part is the same, whether you're from the north or the south. This is just… yes.

Something else to muse on. Though Dorian is aware he has more pressing concerns.

Bull has been in Chantries before. Not often, because it's even more of an affront to non-Qunari to see him in their sacred spaces than it is in their taverns, streets, or shops. It's also something that means a lot to the ones who believe, so he tends to leave it well alone out of respect. 

The Qun don't do temples, or the like, but… they do hold some things very sacred, and it doesn't take too much empathy to translate the idea. 

"What are you going to say to them? I'm guessing you believe what everyone's saying?" Bull asks. "Or do you? I mean, about Andraste and all that?"

Dorian runs his hands through his hair, trying to think as fast as possible. "I don't know," he says. "I believe in Andraste, yes, but… I also know magic, and the Fade, and I can't help but think there's another explanation for this. As for what I'll say…"

He pauses, and paces, clearly a little agitated. "…I want to offer to help them. Maybe even to join this Inquisition, if they're trying to fix what's happened. They'll need good mages, and I'm _very_ good. And… and I can't just sit idly by if the world is in so much danger. But…"

He stops dead, meeting Bull's eye. "…I won't do it without you. So… is this what you want to do as well? I… know it's a lot to ask, but I think it's right, and I think we could make a difference, and one way or another we're going to have to help them deal with Alexius, and no one knows him the way I do, and…"

Bull puts his finger over Dorian's lips to stem the flow of words. "Hey. That's why I asked. I'm not against it in principle, but I gotta get a feel for what they're up to. And if we do work with them… we can use them, if they're not… you know. Totally above board. I also gotta make sure they don't just _use_ you. Because you _are_ very good."

He drops the hand, and grabs his lover's shoulder reassuringly. "We get a read on them. If we think they're more good than bad, then sure. But you gotta be ready to walk off if they aren't…"

Dorian looks ridiculously grateful. "I am. I will. And if they're not committed to fixing this the right way, then we have to keep trying to do it ourselves. But if they are… the Inquisition could be how we resolve this. Actual _allies_ for once."

"We decide together, though. If you think they're not who we should be involved with, when we talk, then we leave. You're very good at reading people, so I trust your judgement on that even above my own."

"Well, it must be good: I picked you, didn't I?" Bull shakes his shoulder, then lets go. "You ask the kind of questions you need answers to, or lead the talk, and I'll join in. And listen. They'll be focusing on you if you're the one talking, so I'll be able to watch without it looking as creepy. Not that I _need_ someone else, it just makes it… easier."

He remembers the wardens in Amaranthine, but this time they may have a chance to intercept before Alexius turns them. Which can only be a good thing. 

"You did," Dorian agrees, managing a smile. "So I know you have impeccable taste. And… did I mention how glad I am that you're here? Because I am. Very. I don't even want to think about what it would be like to do this alone."

"Probably it would have taken a few more months, with you avoiding ships and all." Bull's making light, but his eye and voice aren't. "And I'm gonna regret asking this but… if the Veil did go? Totally? I mean… would everyone just… die from demons?"

Dorian's expression goes very complicated. And pained. "…Yes," he answers. "I mean, not all at once, but… I doubt Thedas would last more than a year or two at most. It would be like the Blight, but a hundred times worse, and everywhere at once. And with no archdemon for a hero to kill and save us all."

"And… Corypheus trying to get to the Black City… to do… what? He's already Blighted, but would demons affect him? How does that even… work?"

It just gets more shit by the day, doesn't it? Bloody crazy asshole mages. Like crazy asshole non-mages, just with more ability to fuck up a large number of people. Bull wants to pace, but he doesn't want to distress Dorian any more than he already is. 

"Technically demons would pose a threat to him, unless he had a way to control them," Dorian answers. "Which is entirely possible. Demons are just corrupted spirits, and you can bind spirits… and a powerful enough mage can bind demons, too. Usually it backfires, but for someone with otherworldly strength… who knows what he could do?"

"As for the Black City… that's where we have nothing but myth and speculation to go on. But my guess is, he wants to seize the throne of the Maker and achieve literal godhood. And whether or not that's actually possible is a moot point if he destroys the world trying to find out."

The more Dorian thinks about this, the worse it is, and the more he hopes the Inquisition turns out to be made up of decent people, because if it isn't this won't get fixed… and it's too much for Dorian to fix alone. It's bigger than Alexius now. So much bigger. And no matter what happens there, the rest is going to take a lot more than a wayward Tevinter mage and his battle-hardened Qunari fiancé to resolve.

"…can we… can we even kill him? Or… I mean, there was a time he wasn't around. We can undo that, if nothing else, can't we?" Bull isn't going to accept defeat. Not under any circumstances. "If we find out how they got him… up… we can work out how to put him back?" 

"Theoretically, yes," Dorian answers. "He's powerful, but he's not actually immortal, and if we could work out where he's been all this time, and how he was brought back… there will be a way, I'm sure of it. I just don't know it yet. And I think–"

He stops in mid-sentence, eyes suddenly flooded with concern. "Do you feel that?" he asks. "It's like… oh _kaffas_..!"

In the centre of the Chantry, a little way away, the air has gone painfully static; rippling with a sickening green light that grows brighter and brighter. A light that's unpleasantly familiar.

" _Rift!_ " Dorian shouts, staff up to generate a flickering wall of much bluer light in front of the two of them, to protect them from the initial explosion of energy as the rift bursts fully open.

And… then begins to disgorge demons. Dorian looks – and feels – horribly guilty, but he has no time to say as much; immediately launching into battle and wondering how the fuck he's supposed to close this one with only Bull to keep the demons off his back whilst he does it.

Bull does not feel it, but he certainly hears it, and then sees it. And then feels the rush of _anger_ that floods him. 

They're in close quarters. It's a small building, comparatively speaking. There's no backup. There's only him and Dorian. 

And… Dorian.

Who knows how to fix these things, but who Bull most assuredly needs to survive. Instinct kicks in and his axe is up and slicing through something hideous before Dorian's first spell has finished resolving, putting himself bodily between the offending creatures and his mage. And whilst he'd said he'd love to fight literally side by side at some point, he didn't mean _now_ and he didn't mean fucking **demons**. Bull roars, stomping his foot and making himself a more threatening target.

"You fuckers should have _stayed in the Fade_!"

It is oddly satisfying to see some turn away from Dorian and towards him. Terrifying and dangerous, but also gratifying and useful. Bull cleaves through one, and shakes his head as something tangles on a horn. 

Dorian is trying to get clear of the gaggle of demons, into a position where he's near enough to the rift. It feels worse than the one they encountered in the Coastlands, but he doesn't know if that's because of the passage of time, proximity to the Breach, or just sheer bad luck.

He does know that if he's going to close this thing on his own, it's going to take everything he has, _and_ another lyrium overdose. All he can do is pray that he'll escape the side-effects this time, because he really doesn't want to go passing out on Bull again.

His hand goes to his belt, about to draw out one of his lyrium vials… when the doors to the Chantry swing open, and four people come running in.

The Dalish woman, and her friends. Well. That's good timing, if nothing else, and if two of them are mages… oh yes, yes, time to open a dialogue with the nice people…

"Help me close this, will you?!" he shouts over, hoping they'll take the hint.

And they're certainly quick to join the fight; launching into the fray with blade and staff and… whatever that miniaturised trebuchet-thing fires. Dorian's certainly grateful there's some of them to back up Bull, as well as him, and from the looks of things these folk certainly know how to fight, and…

"Lavellan! The Anchor!" the male elf shouts, seconds before his Dalish friend leaps up onto one of the pews, holding her empty hand up to the rift… and sending a beam of bright green light straight into it, making it judder and shake as if Dorian had just hit it with triple his lyrium-fuelled strength.

Well. _Well_. That's certainly interesting. The longer the Dalish woman attacks the rift, the weaker it – and the demons – become, and as the last one falls, the rift explodes in a burst of light, collapsing into nothing.

In the silence that follows, there are a lot of confused looks going around; the newcomers clearly not having expected to walk in on a mage and a Qunari fighting demons.

"I see you got my message," Dorian starts out.

"You're a friend of Felix, then?" the Dalish woman asks, her expression careful but not hostile, as she jumps lightly down to the ground again.

"Indeed I am," he replies, and gives a grandiose little bow. "Dorian, of House Pavus… and my fiancé, The Iron Bull. We've been hoping to speak to you."

Bull is more than happy to have people kill demons with him. Killing demons and not anything else is a good sign, as is whatever the glowing green shit is. How he's in a position where glowing green shit is good is… something to consider later.

But they helped, so he's positively inclined (if cautious), and he stows his axe away to show it. Best try to make nice, and if two mages, a sword-wielder and a dwarf with a freaking crossbow from hell decide they don't like them… the extra second or two will be useful, but not the end of the world. For him. 

"Thanks for the assist," he says, with a polite little dip to the head.

"It's what the Inquisition is for, right, Cassandra?" the dwarf asks, without turning, to one of the two women. (Bull surmises from the name that it isn't the Dalish elf.) 

"Right," replies the woman who must be Cassandra, and who is watching Dorian with particularly hawkish intent. "Though I am surprised to find the two of you here."

"You were expecting Felix, I presume?" Dorian says. "He'll be along. He's probably still trying to slip away from his father. Who I _also_ presume you've met."

"We've had the pleasure," the Elven woman replies, and from her tone, it certainly wasn't. "And… forgive me, you've given me your names and I haven't given you mine. Erinya Lavellan, from the Inquisition, and my companions: Cassandra Pentaghast, Varric Tethras, and Solas."

Dorian smiles. "Delighted to meet you."

"Just the one name, huh?" Bull asks the other elf, because he's the one he's not yet gotten a good first read on. Or, he has, but it isn't 'good'. "I've got three. You want to borrow one? I could offer a nice 'The'?"

Varric laughs, and pats his weapon. "She forgot to introduce 'Bianca', here. And don't worry, Chuckles has another name. You're free to use that one, if you prefer."

Solas gives a strangely level little smile. "Many Elves use only one name, particularly those not affiliated with a particular clan. Though I am tempted by the definite article. Perhaps I'll give that one some thought."

Lavellan glances back at Solas when he speaks, and the way she does says a great deal. Though her next words are directed at Dorian and Bull, and they're more businesslike.

"Do you know what Alexius' plan is? Is that why you're here?"

Dorian nods, trying not to look too grave. "Yes. He was once my mentor. We were very close. But things have fallen apart in recent times, and he's joined up with a group from our homeland. They're calling themselves the Venatori."

From the looks he gets at this, the name isn't new to the Inquisition group.

"They serve a master they're referring to as 'the Elder One'. But I did some digging before I left Tevinter. Asked questions of the right people. And this 'Elder One'… he's one of the ancient Magisters Sidereal. Their leader, in fact. Corypheus."

Varric's expression changes, rather dramatically. "…no. No. Hawke killed that bastard."

"Hawke? Not the Kirkwall Hawke?" Bull asks.

"Yeah. One and the same." Varric's hand tightens on Bianca. "Before you say anything, Seeker… I told you everything I know about that."

Cassandra gives a slightly resigned sigh. "I know. But apparently there were things you did _not_ know. This complicates matters. Though… it also gives us a lead we didn't have before."

Dorian had expected alarm, but certainly not this level of foreknowledge. "You've encountered Corypheus?" he says. "Before this? And you thought he was dead? That's… I didn't think this could get any more worrying, but apparently it can. If he's got some way to fake or even transcend death… killing him again may not help us."

"Though… we do have a more immediate problem," he goes on, because he knows they've got to focus. "Alexius has the southern mages, which I'm guessing causes you a problem because _you_ wanted them, to help close the Breach?"

Lavellan nods. "That's right. And I still do. But we need to come up with a way to free them from his control."

"…That's going to be difficult," comes another voice, from the side-door of the Chantry. Everyone turns at once, but Dorian isn't concerned, because he recognises the speaker straight away.

"Felix," he says, brightly. "You made it."

"Sorry for the delay," Felix replies. "My father wouldn't stop fussing. It took a while to get him to leave me alone."

"Well. There's always the time amulet," Bull points out, indicating to Dorian that yes, okay, these ones are good enough; at least for now. "Dorian says we can use it to go forwards, see what happened, and then do it. Don't ask me how the magic works, but it does."

"…you have a 'time amulet'? Why haven't you fixed this already?" Varric frowns. "And is it even safe? In my experience, things that powerful usually aren't."

"Ah, 'we' don't have it. Yet. Alexius does. And he doesn't particularly care for Dorian and myself, but…" Bull wiggles his fingers in front of him. "Some new potential allies, plus his very beloved son?"

"It likely isn't safe at all," Dorian admits. "And up until recently, it didn't work. But he used it to evade us when we were following him, and to get here early enough to steal the southern mages from you. So it's something we want out of his hands for certain. And Bull's right… if we had it, we could potentially use it to work out how to resolve this."

Or… to see what happens if we don't, but maybe don't mention that because it's not something Dorian wants to see. Or know. Or think about. At all.

Instead, he turns to Felix. "Where is he holding the mages? Surely they're not all stuffed into the basement of that inn?"

"No, no, he was just using it as a suitable meeting place to speak to the Herald," Felix answers. "He's taken over Redcliffe Castle. Did it in a matter of days. It was… he's not himself, Dorian, and it's really starting to scare me."

"I know," Dorian replies, pain in his eyes. "I know. But we'll resolve this. Somehow."

"If we're going to make this work, we need Inquisition resources," Lavellan points out. "We'll go back to Haven and discuss it with the others. We should be able to come up with a plan of action."

"Agreed," Cassandra says. "Leliana may have a way for us to do this without a direct assault, which is something we should avoid. Even if Redcliffe Castle is in Venatori hands, it will not look good for the Inquisition to attack a major Fereldan stronghold. Especially one belonging to the king's uncle."

As they're speaking, Dorian looks over at Bull. He's confident the other man is happy enough with these people, or he wouldn't have mentioned the amulet, which means Dorian is in turn confident that they'll be in agreement about what comes next.

"Let us come with you," he says. "To Haven. We can help."

"Dorian's a _very_ skilled mage. And we've been on Alexius' trail for a while. We've got intelligence – and my mercenary group – who only need minimum upkeep and _will_ be a good addition to your forces." They seem to want similar things, and they're also a combination of interesting people.

Bull usually finds that combinations of people – backgrounds, races – have more of an open mind. Case. Point. Etcetera. "Might as well work together if we all want the same thing."

Lavellan looks pleased by the offer. "We're always open to more allies," she answers. "And your familiarity with Alexius will no doubt be valuable. And… a mercenary group, you say? That sounds promising. If you want to help, I'd be happy to have you aboard."

"I have a question, if I may," Cassandra cuts in, her eyes still on Dorian. "Why would a Tevinter magister want to help us fight other magisters?"

This makes Dorian sigh, because he's been wondering when they'd get to this part. "Not all mages from Tevinter are magisters," he points out, the well-worn words feeling like he should just have them on a sign by now. "It's a political position. I'm the _son_ of a magister, but I'm not one myself. And as for why I want to help… because it's the right thing to do. Because I don't want untold evil let loose upon the world. Isn't that why _you're_ doing it?"

"It is, yes," Cassandra concedes, seeming at least reasonably satisfied with the answer. "All right, then. So long as the Herald is in favour, you'll get no argument from me."

"We need to pick up Krem and the guys from the inn. If there's enough space in your settlement, I can call the rest of the Chargers," Bull adds. "And the horses."

He offers a gruff little nod to Felix. "You hang in there, kid. I'll leave someone in the tavern for you. If you need out…"

"Thanks," Felix manages. "I… hope I'll see you soon."

"You will," Dorian insists, trying to stay positive, but he can see the flicker in Felix's eyes. The increase in the pain lining his face. _It's getting worse_.

He lets the other man see his concern, just for a moment, but when he turns to the rest of the room once more, his emotional mask is back in place. He knows Bull will see straight through it, and that's fine, but he's not sure he's ready to let his guard down around these Inquisition people yet. They _seem_ decent, and he wants to believe they are, but he needs more time to be certain. And besides, there's plenty he can say to fill any amount of space, so they're unlikely to notice.

"Well," he says, brightly. "Shall we..?"


	2. Chapter 2

The next couple of days pass in a blur. The journey to Haven takes up most of it, and Dorian is even _more_ glad of the extra layers as they head up into the snow.

When they arrive, they find the fledgling Inquisition has commandeered the village of Haven, and begun building a base of operations. Tents line the ground beyond the inner wall, and there's a disturbing number of templars around, which worries Dorian to no end.

But everyone is polite, and at least outwardly glad for the assistance, and before long they've met most of the other key members of the group – thus far, at least – and been quartered in a small house within the recently-erected village walls. And _that_ is certainly pleasing, because even if all those tents _weren't_ full of templars, Dorian is still not in favour of them. He is a strictly walls-and-proper-beds man, after all.

"Well, it's not quite the villa and estate in Minrathous or Qarinus, but…" Bull slides a finger down the wall, "…it's better than tarpaulin, or whatever tavern we've found a bed in, right?" 

Bull doesn't mind a bit of rough, but he's perfectly comfortable in – well – comfort. And Dorian _craves_ it, so it isn't a sacrifice to demand better accommodations where possible. 

"It certainly is," Dorian agrees. "Which was good of them."

He paces closer to the fire, which has already been lit and is crackling away happily in the grate. "So. Now we're alone, tell me… what do you think of all this? Their operation, I mean. They seem decent so far, if a little under-resourced, but I imagine that will change as their influence grows."

Bull hums, deep in his chest. "It's also a bit of a mess. The 'Herald'? Lavellan? They're all looking to her for guidance, but she got this all thrown on her. Pretty decent sort, though. Taking the horrible shit on… don't have an issue with them, personally. But I do worry about the factions… the Seekers, some templars, Circle mages… it's a whole heap of motivations and belief structures. Either it will bring out the best, or…" Bull mimics an explosion with his hands. 

"Plus, there's Orlais and Ferelden dynamics, with the Imperium on the opposite side. It's… certainly interesting. A lot of potential. A _lot_ of egos and agendas. And not all of them pleased to see us." Then he laughs. "But for once, we're not the only odd ones out. It looks like everyone is trouble to someone else. What do you think?"

"I think you're right," Dorian answers. "Either everyone will come together in spite of their differences, or the whole thing will fall spectacularly apart. But I think it's worth the effort to try to make it work, and I can't help but feel all of Thedas needs this right now. So I'm glad we're here. And… I'm glad we'll have backup… or _be_ the backup… when we face Alexius again, because I don't want a repeat of what happened in Amaranthine."

He paces away from the fire after a moment, going over to sit on the bed – giving it an evaluatory bounce as he does – before starting to take his boots off.

"Lavellan seems decent, but I agree she's just been thrown into all this… and if _I_ feel out of place here, I can only imagine what it must be like for a Dalish Elf. Especially one who's also a mage. And that other guy… the other Elf… did you _see_ the way he fought when we got waylaid by those bandits in the foothills? Half of his spellcasting techniques are old Tevinter – and I mean _old_ – but nothing about him makes me think he's a former slave."

"Yeah. It looks like the lot of them would fit in the Chargers. He's… not city, and he's not Dale, and he's not slave… and he's… I think the only person he likes, that isn't himself, is Lavellan. And I get the feeling that side is mutual…" Bull lets his eyes drag over Dorian, even if it's just his boots right now that he's removing. 

"That one's weird. Dwarf's weird, too, but I like him more. Surfacer who ran around Kirkwall before it went boom? Working alongside a strange-ass bunch of Chantry folk? Tell me you got the same vibe from the Seeker that I did… well. Other than the part where you wouldn't find her hot." 

"Cassandra?" Dorian says. "Not what I expected at all. I'd never even heard of the Seekers until now – we don't have them in Tevinter – so I didn't realise she's some kind of… what? Super-templar? But even from talking to her a little, she's clearly devoted to the cause and desperately trying to do the right thing. And I feel like a lot of this – the Inquisition, I mean – would never have happened without her. I doubt she'll ever be truly happy with me, but I can't help respecting her all the same. Plus, she is one of the people uniting the Inquisition around a _mage_ , which means she must be more forward-thinking than most around here."

Bull walks over to the bed, sitting half-way up it, behind Dorian, and falling backwards with a bounce. "That, plus she is _so_ into Varric. Come on. Even a man of your tastes must be able to read that fifteen miles off. And I think she'll like you plenty. She's just shit at the people thing. Like Skinner, you gotta learn her quirks, then she makes sense."

Dorian laughs. " _Completely_ into Varric. And he's completely into her. But it's the kind of thing where nothing will ever happen unless someone locks them both in a closet until they figure it out. Maybe that's worth trying later on, when we know them better and they won't think it's a plot by Dread Tevinter to take over the Inquisition…"

He sits back, considering some more.

"Lavellan's three advisors are… a mixed bunch, as well. Josephine's an absolute darling, but I have to admit to being more than a little scared by Leliana. Those are the eyes of someone who has _seen things_. And did you hear she was with the Hero of Ferelden at the Battle of Denerim? If nothing else, half of these people are borderline mythic already."

Which makes them fascinating, of course. And makes Dorian want to sit them down and ask them all sorts of questions, because when else do you get an opportunity like that?

Seen things. More than seen things. Bull understands, and it's made worse by the fact that she doesn't hide it, either. Which says far, far too much. "Word is – from Josephine herself, actually – that if you want to strike up a conversation with Leliana, you might want to choose 'shoes' as a topic. She volunteered that. With most, I might worry it was a send-up, but she seems to be utterly dedicated to the cause as well. And she knows probably as much as their spymaster does. Wouldn't be surprised if those two are a unit. Not necessarily in the bedroom, but… they work hand in glove. So… there's your in." 

"And the templar? Ex-templar?" Bull asks it quietly, because he knows it's going to be a tough thing, being around them. Even one that's left, though there's plenty of others scattered about. "What's your take on him?" 

That makes Dorian sigh, suddenly more reserved. "Cullen? He seems decent too. Competent. Driven. But… he was in Kirkwall. He was _second-in-command_ in Kirkwall. He was there when the Chantry exploded and the Knight-Commander went mad. So… he makes me nervous, I won't lie. But I recognise that I shouldn't just write him off as guilty by association, because people do that to me all the time. I'll… just have to see how it goes."

"He also _left_ the Order. And Varric was there, too. So… he doesn't give me the same kind of vibes as you-know-who did. He might not be _open_ to mages, but he isn't… against them. And he is following Lavellan…" Bull shrugs. "They could write you off as Alexius' prodigy and protégé. I'll be keeping an eye on him just in case, but… I think he'll have less of an issue with you than some of the others. And it's funny… for once they're looking at me not because I'm Qunari, but because I'm with _you_. The shift in perception is… intriguing. My background is almost secondary to my romantic affiliation… a whole new set of prejudices!"

Dorian smiles again. "I do enjoy broadening your horizons!" he says. "Besides… I almost can't blame them. I doubt they've ever seen a Tevinter mage with a Qunari boyfriend before. At least we can say we're keeping things interesting. And… maybe we can challenge some of those prejudices. Show them that not all Qunari or Tevinters are the same. And… I guess that's how I have to approach all these templars, isn't it? Give them the benefit of the doubt unless they act to make me think otherwise."

"Exactly. Plus, I guess them seeing us together helps them realise you're – ah – not precisely like the normal image of your countryfolk. Not only are you with another guy, but he's a foot taller and your supposed enemy… I _think_ that's a little too far-fetched and extreme a cover story if you really were on the Venatori's side… especially when they hear you in the night…" Bull runs his knuckles over Dorian's spine, appreciating the curve. 

"You also pissed off the only one who's vying for my spot as most 'horny'. Reckon she's jealous of you."

"Of course she is, she's _Orlesian_ ," Dorian replies, flatly. "Although she _is_ better-dressed than most of her compatriots. Must be the mage in her…"

He sighs. "I doubt Lady Vivienne is going to be a fan of mine. But I will _try_ to be civil, for the sake of diplomacy." And to prove her wrong.

The contact on his back makes him give a happy little shiver, arching into it more. "Mmmmm," he says, "you can keep doing that if you like…"

"Just that? Or would you like me to grind out some of the knots… you've been on the road for far too long, now…" Bull pushes his thumb into one tight spot, working it delicately. "It's… nice to be a little more settled. More folks here to keep watch for us. And we're less of a concern than our mutual concern, so… I'd say we're safe." 

Dorian gives a soft moan of pleasure, leaning back even more. "I'd love that," he says. "I'm simply not made for all this… _outdoors_ activity. It's much too uncomfortable for my tastes. But… I agree with you on being settled. It is nice not having to think about getting straight back on the road in the morning, even if we'll surely be returning to Redcliffe before long."

"Get yourself comfortable," Bull says, and taps at the back of his collar. "I owe you at least fifty backrubs by now, I'm sure." Also, he likes doing it. He likes putting his hands all over his mage, and especially if it reduces (unwanted) pain and makes him happy. 

"You're better at the outdoors than you think you are, but I agree it's not really where you bloom. When your nose goes pink and you come back inside and rub your hands in front of the fire…" Alright, now he's just being soppy. Bull sits up enough to kick his own boots off. No sense muddying their bed. 

"Maybe this is the test-run of… a little bit of home, a little bit of ass-kicking. While we work out the optimal distribution of both?"

"I could go along with that," Dorian replies, finishing slipping his robe off and then settling himself into place. He knows he's repressing some of his feelings, and it's making him tense. Because… he's well-aware that he was prepared for a second confrontation with Alexius in Redcliffe, and it didn't happen, and whilst he understands the logic behind that… he's also conscious of the fact that he was very glad of the excuse.

And it's not _bad_ -bad, per se, because it's tactical, rather than him running away from his problems. But he still feels the weight of it, and the weight of having to leave Felix behind again. The… knowledge that the younger man likely doesn't have long left.

At least he's spending all that time with his father. Funny how these things turn out.

Bull moves to straddle just below Dorian's ass, which is tactical because then he can work the full length of his back. He grabs a little of their (multi-purpose) oil, and works his hands to warm it, before he's grinding and gliding his palms up to his shoulders. 

"I'll also have to discuss the Ben-Hassrath with them. Because they have spies everywhere, and… well. I'll have to report back on the Inquisition to them, too. Being in a larger group kind of speeds up the schedule of letting them know about us, but it's for a good reason."

"I'm guessing you're planning to be up-front about that?" Dorian says. "I've been careful not to mention it, but I suspected you'd do so yourself before long. Better to keep it as above-board as possible. Plus the Ben-Hassrath must know about us one way or another by now. They… might think you're playing the long game with me, but they'll know something's going on."

Bull licks his lips in thought. "Yeah. If I make it open, it will force the Qun's – the Ben-Hassrath's – hand. I think Lavellan first, then mention it to Josephine. Who will mention it to Leliana, if she doesn't already know… the Qun aren't gonna like the Corypheus shit, so I'm going down that route."

And then there's… "I do have a suggestion about… you. Which you may or may not like."

Dorian bites his lip. "Just tell me," he pushes, but quietly. Worrying, now, about where this might be going, but knowing they have to find a way to make it work.

"It'll be easier if I address it up-front with them. And… they'll be more likely to believe it if I…" Bull sighs. "If I say I'm openly trying to convert and recruit you. And that you're sympathetic. That I've sold the idea of… an alliance of sorts."

Bull's hands pause for a moment. "It isn't true. But the Ben-Hassrath work on so many levels within levels that I'm not sure any of them understand the concept of true-truth any more…"

This is… not as bad as it could be. That doesn't make it good, or safe, but… it could be worse.

"All right," Dorian agrees, softly. "I… can live with that. Is there anything you need me to do, or not do, or… is it one of those cases where you can weave whatever you like into the fiction if you try hard enough..?"

"Mostly if you're not openly critical of the Qun, or that kind of shit will get back to them. If I make any public comments about 'them', just appear approving. Other than that… yeah. I can control what I send back to them, and spin it how I like. They'll have fun unravelling that, plus whatever their local spies say…" Damn, but it hurts Bull's head. 

"It… would still be unconventional, in their eyes. Even for a Tal-Vashoth. But it could be seen as situationally appropriate, and then we wouldn't need to be as discreet as we would, otherwise."

"Good," Dorian says. "I don't want to be discreet. I love you, and I'm marrying you, and I'm not hiding that if I don't have to. As for the rest… I'll play along, if that's what it takes."

Anything. Anything to stay with you.

And then something else occurs to him "I suppose if word gets out that I've joined the Inquisition, my parents will hear about it before long. Which means they'll find out about us, too."

"…how do you feel about that?" Bull asks, his hands starting to work over Dorian's back again. He glides either side of his spine, and then pushes just over the blades of his shoulders. "Not how you planned it, but… could be useful to give them time to react to the concept?"

"Relieved, I suppose. They'd find out eventually, and not having it hanging over me is probably a good thing. Although… if I _haven't_ already been formally disowned, this will likely be enough to make it happen, and even though I'm prepared for it, it will still sting when I find out."

Mostly Dorian just wants it over and done with, so he can settle into _not_ being what he was brought up to be, and _actually_ being who he wants to be.

"When the club you're kicked out from includes people who would threaten children, in order to bring out the Darkspawn Magisters of old in order to raise literal hell and kill pretty much everyone? I think maybe you should be relieved you're off the guest list." Bull says it, knowing full well that it isn't that simple to emotionally process.

He's still… conflicted about the Qun, after all. It's hard to walk away from things you've lived your whole life, even when you see the cracks. 

"When you've made a difference, when you've made it something to be _proud_ of again… then they'll **deserve** you, kadan." He places a soft kiss to his nape, and grips reassuringly with both hands. "But… it's okay to be… to be sad it isn't what you thought it should have been. I… get it."

Dorian sighs again. "I know," he says. "I do. And I don't regret what I've done, or why. Even if I hadn't met you, I'd still believe I was doing the right thing. I just wish I could stop _caring_ , so that when it happens, it won't really affect me."

He rests his head on his arms. "And I know you understand, because you're doing it too. It just… hurts. And I don't even want it to, because I'm not unhappy with what I have."

A deep breath. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be melancholy."

Bull's hands move up into Dorian's hair, instead, slowly working over his scalp. "It's alright. It's… how you feel. And it's how you feel because you _do_ care. And you do want things to be better… like half those out there, too. None of the groups seem that… good. Chantry. Order. Seekers. Hell, the dwarves are a mess, the Dalish scrape by, the Circles imploded… but as long as someone's there to keep fighting… there's hope."

Which is a bit more sentiment than he intended to let out, but Bull hopes it helps, all the same. "Don't focus on what's wrong and bad, now. Focus on the future you're fighting for. Where we're walking through Minrathous, arm in arm, and life is that little bit better for everyone around us, day after day. That hurt, that ache for perfection… turn it into fire, instead of fog. Use it. Control it. And look how far we've already come…"

"How are you this amazing?" Dorian breathes. "I mean, seriously? Is there anything you _can't_ do? If I had nothing else to fight for, I'd fight to make the world a little more worthy of you. And… I know you're right. We can do good. We can make things better. And maybe not everyone around us will approve, but so long as _we_ do, then that's proof enough for me."

"…years of basically insane training and conditioning, and then meeting the perfect guy?" Bull offers. "Plus. It's always easier to help someone else than it is to help yourself. You end up…" he ruffles hair under his nose, "…with blind spots. I could ask _you_ how you're so good. Maybe it's just that… we make each other closer to our best…"

He knows Dorian's helped him with more than just a pathological fear of demons. Or his quandary over the Qun. It's just… easier. Easier with him there, to give him something to fight for, and… and someone who believes in him. "I will shore you, and you will shore me, and nothing will rock our foundations when we lock our horns together. Metaphorically speaking, that is."

Bull drags his fingers all the way down his spine, and then pushes his knuckles in at the dimples just above his ass, bordering on too-hard, but coasting the line as carefully as he can. "You know it matters to you because you've seen your idols – your role models – are imperfect. It's hard to realise they are as fucked up, or even more fucked up, than you are. Their opinions still matter to you, because you _want_ them to be better. And that's why I love you. One of the reasons why… you _hope_. That's what you should be showing off. Not your magic, not your wit, or learning, or fashion sense. **You**. And that's something no one can ever take away from you. Not your father, not Alexius, not the whole order of templars. "

"…part of me is still desperate to save him, you know," Dorian admits. "Alexius, I mean. I should hate him for what he's done… and part of me does, especially after what happened in Amaranthine, but… a larger part of me still wants to help him get out of this in one piece. I realise it might not be possible, and I accept that, but… I still hope."

"It's because he didn't give up on you," Bull reminds him. "And you know – on some level – that part of him was good. And maybe still could be. Only you are going to know if – and when – he crosses the line… and until I have no choice in order to save you and others, I'll let it be your call. So long as you accept that… I may have to, if you're not ready to." 

Dorian drops his head again. "I know. And if it comes to it… I'll agree with you. I'm not letting him hurt anyone else. Maker, he set fire to a building full of _children_. I… don't know if I'll ever forgive him for that. But… oh, amatus, I think you would have liked him, back in the day. Back before everything went so wrong. He was brilliant, decent – sometimes even funny – and willing to take a chance on the disaster I was, then."

Bull captures Dorian's chin in his palm, and turns his head for a lingering kiss. "He got you far enough for me to find you, so I owe him thanks for that, if nothing else. He helped you. It's only right we _try_ the same. And… I promise, I will only move as a last resort. I can see what he means to you. Felix, too." 

That makes Dorian try to turn so he's on his back, pulling Bull in over him and putting a hand on his face. "Could you please be a little less amazing?" he says, but he's clearly joking. "I'm having a hard time keeping up."

And he pushes in to kiss Bull again, rough and needy all of a sudden, and somewhat overwhelmed by the headful of emotions he has right now.

Bull doesn't even attempt to reply, moving to let Dorian shift, and allowing himself to be pulled where he's needed. He parts his lips a fraction, making Dorian work for it if he wants more, and slides a hand from knee up to hip. 

When Dorian lets him breathe again, he flicks at the other man's trousers with one thumb. "I could maybe direct my attention to other skills, if you'd prefer. Places where we're most assuredly on a level playing field."

"I'd like that," Dorian replies, staring up at him; strangely vulnerable but not weak. "I need you. I need you very, very badly."

Which he proves by pulling Bull in to kiss some more, hands on his face, trying for as much bodily contact as he can. And that, if nothing else, will not keep the extent of his needing a secret for very long.

Bull leans into him, closing the distance to lie flush against his lover, pressing him into the bed under his weight. He's aware he should be careful with this bed, as it's 'theirs', and also… possibly not make the Inquisition come running at the worst screams and sound of breaking furniture.

Plus, Dorian needs something different right now. 

He slides his fingers around to unfasten his trousers and slip inside, squeezing and kneading as the kisses continue, and only break when Bull forces them to. "Will you let me take you slowly, kadan? Will you let me show you what's worth waiting for? It won't run away. I won't run away. There's no need to chase this… it _will_ come." 

" _Anything_ ," Dorian gasps, breathless from the kissing, his eyes full of longing. "Please. I want you to. I need you to."

He does. His head is a cacophonous jumble of thought, emotion, hope and fear, and even for someone who _enjoys_ having a busy mind, it's getting to be more than he wants to cope with. And there's only one person in the world who can make it all go quiet.

"Help me with this." Bull shimmies his hand under the open, but tight, pants. "Let me see you. Let me see all of you."

He pushes his fingers into Dorian's hair, the other hand moving to press under his chin and keep his throat exposed for a swathe of slow, firm kisses. His knee moves to push up between Dorian's thighs, making undressing more complicated, but not impossible. "Bare yourself for me. Show me all of your beauty and wanting. Show me the promise of what's to come." His lips follow the lines of arteries, of tendons, of hissing and reacting. He's chasing every little reaction, and trying to spread out the responses across his whole body, bit by bit. 

Dorian is eager enough – and flexible enough – to finish stripping off without a great deal of effort. Plus he doesn't want to make Bull stop the lovely, lovely kisses for a second longer than necessary, which makes him even more focused. He lies back once he's done, stretching out his legs either side of Bull's knee, not quite grinding against him but clearly close.

"I need you," he gasps again, hands going to Bull's face once more. "Please. I'm all yours."

"I'm yours, I swear." Bull lets himself be pulled in, but his hand is wandering all over his chest. There's only a little of the oil left, and he doesn't even want to pull back enough to get more. He plucks at one nipple, then the next, gazing lovingly into his eyes. 

"Kadan… let me take the edge off…" He moves to lift his legs, urging them over his shoulders, settling between his thighs and palming at his flat stomach. "Let me give you this, and then I will take you as slowly as we both can manage…" His lips brush over one hip-bone, and he grazes his eye up to his face, asking for his agreement. 

" _Please_ ," Dorian breathes, shivering a little under the touches, his eyes still flooded with need, which gets all the stronger as Bull moves into position. "Yes. I want that. Want you. When you take me… when I'm yours… everything else just fades away and all I see is you. All I _want_ to see is you."

One finger crooks under his shaft, near the tip, balancing it where he wants it. "You are the most important thing in the world to me, kadan. Never forget that. **Never**. Let me make you feel good. Let me show you how much I love you."

Delicately, he parts his lips and deftly wraps them around the head. His tongue comes out to lap, teasing with regular, dry little licks and the echoes of moans and groans. As Dorian responds, he wets his tongue and lies it flat over the crown, wiggling it in place. 

Bull _loves_ giving head. Actually, he's positively inclined towards most things, but it's the reaction he's most turned on by, rather than the act itself. His tongue laps and then he's suckling, just over the very end of his cock. 

" _Fuck_ … yes… like that, oh fuck please…" is Dorian's intelligent response. His hips shake from the effort of staying still, and his hands instinctively go to hold on to Bull's head, around the back of his horns; not to interfere but simply to feel him move. And because he needs something to hold on _to_ right now.

The attention already has him whimpering more than a little; the need continuing to rush to the surface (not that it was a secret before), and it's clear how much he loves this. Plus… Bull going down on him always reminds him of the very first time, and whilst the setting may be very different (and significantly more comfortable), the emotion behind it is just as intense, and immediate.

It's always gratifying to see how Dorian enjoys things, and it's always so very vocal and confident and explicit that Bull is never left wondering for more than a moment if he's doing the right thing. The hands on his horns have him growling in approval, and he flattens his tongue, the better to start to bob up and down over his shaft. 

With Dorian so needy already, Bull is happy to grab the oil again. He dribbles some over his balls (where he then rests his chin) and the rest over his fingers. His mage is rarely too tight for at least a little penetration, and right now he can slide his middle finger up and all the way in, bending towards his belly and sliding down to take his whole length in, in one go. 

That makes Dorian cry out in bliss, holding on tighter. " _Please_ ," he flat-out begs, "like that, like that, _fuck_ , don't stop, I'll do anything…"

The attention feels incredible; waves of pleasure starting to run through him already, and as Bull's finger pushes into him, it makes the world go black for a moment. And he craves, oh he _craves_ so very much more.

With Dorian's dick wrapped completely by his mouth, Bull knows he can be a little bit of a bastard. A fun one, but a bastard all the same. Six o'clock shadowed stubble scruffing over his balls, one finger dragging the widest path it can in circular motions, and the others stroking, tugging, pressing around his rim and taint. He's got every inch covered, slick and taut and teased, and he _gloats_ at the begging. 

At least any Inquisition who pass by won't be thinking their relationship is for show. At least not the physical elements. There's no _way_ Dorian could fake that level of thirst. He wriggles his tongue to push him to the roof of his mouth, then starts to forcibly gulp and slurp, tilting his head so the thrusts take him deep into his throat. 

Dorian would lift off the bed at that, were he in a position to do so. Instead, he bucks as much as is possible given the way he's folded pretty much helplessly around the other man, shaking nigh-on violently under the intense stimulation.

"Yes! _Yes!_ Fuck… please… need more, need you, amatus, _please_ … **please!** "

He's holding on hard enough to hurt – him, at least – and going out of his mind so fast that all he knows is need, and longing, and _desperation_. But it's definitely helping him not think about other things, because right now the _only_ thing he has space in his head for is _Bull_.

The fingers still, and Bull slips his mouth free, kissing his dick before he's resting his cheek on his lover's belly. "Where do you want to come first, kadan? In my mouth, or on my cock?"

Normally he wouldn't feel the need to ask, but right now… he wants to. His free hand rubs over his flinching belly, over his hip. "Tell me what you need, and it's yours." 

"Need you to fuck me," Dorian gasps, blinking hazily up at him. "Need you on top of me, holding me down, holding me _here_ , splitting me in two until I come _screaming_. Please. _Please_."

He's not sure why he's quite so affected tonight, but he is, and it's making his blood burn. It isn't bad, per se, and he's certainly not upset, but the intensity of it is suddenly more than a little overwhelming.

That just… goes all the way down Bull's spine, making a strange, gravelly note of longing cut the air. "Anything you say." He would, as well. Give him whatever he asked for, no matter what it was. But he understands what's needed right now, and he's all too eager to provide it. 

Being so… wanted… it slices right through him, making the air he breathes in taste sharp and metallic. Making the pounding in his head resolve into a directive. 

Bull isn't going to hurt him, though, and he stops the attention to his dick while he plies a second finger into Dorian, splaying and arching and tugging him rapidly wider. "Move your legs," he orders, as he shuffles closer, holding his dick ready even as he's still fingering him. "Gonna show you what it's like to be _home_." 

"Home is wherever _you_ are," Dorian gasps; the temporary slowing giving him a moment to breathe, but only just. "I know that. But that doesn't mean I ever want to stop _feeling_ it."

He spreads his legs wider, baring himself open and ready, and having to fight the urge to keep begging, because he knows Bull won't deny him, not now. It's still there in his eyes, though; that _desperate_ need only one man in the world can fulfil.

When he's sure he's ready enough, when his fingers meet only the barest of resistance, and mostly just a welcoming push and grip… Bull slips his hand away, and his knees go either side of Dorian's ass. "Well. Gonna show you what it's like when home stays in one place for a while…"

Hands on his hips, moving his legs, rubbing, rubbing then… pushing the first inch or two inside, but no more. He grabs for Dorian's hands, and slams them into the bed, in his own. "Stay. Stay. Here, with me. I wouldn't let you leave if you tried. This is where you belong, kadan." Hold him down, he said. Bull can do that, fiercely determined and implacably strong. "Gonna fuck the magic right out of you for the night. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Nothing except _you_."

" _Oh yes_ ," Dorian cries out, his eyes rolling back for a moment at how fucking incredible that feels. He needs it, for more than just the pleasure and eventual release (though of course those are very, very good too). He needs the _grounding_ , the sense of place, of purpose, of _connection_ , and even though it's something he's gotten used to over these last few, insane weeks, he never stops loving it.

"Yours," he gasps, not trying to resist in the slightest. Not needing to. "Always yours. I'd follow you to the ends of the world if you asked me to. _Anything_ , to stay by your side."

"I'd follow you to the heart of the Imperium, just so I could keep watching that ass," Bull jokes, but the catch in his voice says the reasoning isn't that superficial, not really. "They won't stop us. Not Tevinter, not Par Vollen. Not the Magisterium, not the Ben-Hassrath. Not even a fucking elder Darkspawn Magister. Remember. Remember that nothing can stop us. Nothing could."

His eyes glance to the key, then back up, and he grins. "You wanted the fuck of your life. You wanted to get used like never before. You didn't realise you _needed **this**_."

The position gives him the benefit of his own weight, but Bull also has to contend with the angle, and the need to drive harder. Dorian's hands under his own, his rutting sharp and shallow to begin with. "Whatever it takes. Whatever you need. Whatever… it's yours, kadan. All of it. All of me. Anything I can give you, I will." 

"I didn't know I could _have_ this," Dorian breathes, his voice wavering from the emotion. "And then… when you fucked me that first time… it wasn't just incredible sex… you were _claiming_ me, because you _wanted_ me, and that… it was just… after so fucking long…"

He bites his lip, not quite able to continue, though the rest is there in his eyes; heartfelt and honest.

"I _know_." Two words, but Bull echoes everything, and more. 

He moves Dorian's hands so both are pinned under one of his own, and he slips behind his neck to pull their heads together. It's too close to see, so he closes his eye and just…

"I – I was telling you – telling the world: this one. This one's mine. You can't touch him any more. He's mine, all mine." 

Vigour like this requires more strain and ingenuity, muscles that he's fortunate enough to keep in good shape with every other interesting proposal or fight they end up in, but he sacrifices some of the strength for the closeness. He needs it, right now. Needs to be as close to that face as he can. As much contact as their bodies can make, as the coupling speeds and his toes curl. "I couldn't touch you… not until you could understand. Could… agree. Just to fuck you would have killed me. I-- I needed…" 

It had burned through his blood, and saying 'no' had been the challenge of a lifetime. But he's so, so damn glad he did. "…kadan!"

" _Amatus_ ," Dorian gasps in reply, the words hitting him hard. "You have me. I'm yours. Always yours. And I'll never stop reminding you… never stop being grateful that you… that… you… _fuckyeslikethat_ , like that… _fuck **please**_ …"

His breath is hot against the other man's lips, and ragged with a mixture of pleasure and desperation, and a deep, deep longing. And he's close, oh fuck yes, he's close, but he's fighting to hold on because he doesn't want this feeling to stop. Because he wants to keep giving Bull _everything_.

"Hold me," Bull orders, letting go of his hands, but not his neck. "Need… so fucking – close I can…" 

Bull locks his fingers behind Dorian's neck, curling his head upwards and using the grip as leverage to push down as he thrusts in. His arms are somewhere – fuck knows – his feet clawing the sheets loose as every slam at a new angle is fresh, delicious torture. "Auuugh, kadan… you… need me to stop gonna… have to m-make me…"

Because his spine is arching, his balls screaming with every slap between them. Somehow he's pushed Dorian's pelvis to just the right angle and he's seeing pink sparks of his own at the stripe of pressure he's riding against. And the heart he can feel thudding against his own chest, the sounds that must be illegal coming from his lips. "…gonna…" He's right on the edge, fingers pressing crescents into the back of Dorian's neck in an effort not to ruin it.

The cry Dorian gives at this is completely incoherent; wrecked, ragged, desperate, but utterly adoring. He holds on with all the strength he has left, trying to get the angle they both need, and then _screams_ all over again when Bull finds it, and is suddenly slamming into him _just_ right.

"F-fuck… I… can't… can't… _fuck!_ "

And the pleasure explodes through him, rough and hot, and once it hits all he can do is coast it out, howling loud enough to wake half the town and bucking in Bull's grip for what feels like an age.

It was good. Better than good. Then great. Then perfect. Then… what comes after perfect? Apparently 'Dorian', and, shortly after, 'Bull'. Or around the same time. Or… it's a little difficult to tell, because Bull's the one riding the wave of Dorian's climax, as he thrashes and meets him and pulls away and Bull's forcing him back down so he can feel that delicious ripple and let it stroke over his cock as he manages the last few, fierce and uncontrolled slams in.

Bull roars something that might be words, but it's quickly swallowed up by the throat his mouth seals onto, sucking right under his jawline, driven by the intense need to _mark_ him, to prove this in ways everyone can see. 

He doesn't even stop kissing the spot even after his dick has stopped twitching, and the only thing left to do is hold on. 

Dorian's arms have locked in place, and the rest of him feels utterly – gloriously – spent. He can't do much more than try to draw breath, shaking slightly from the aftershocks and trying to find the words to say the things in his head… which are convoluted at best.

"…you… really good at that…" is all he manages, but from the blissful look on his face, he'd have a lot more to say if his brain was currently working.

"Mmnn, needs… two. Needs… you." Bull looks at the new lovebite he's left to darken, and then nudges his nose to it. "…'s'why works. Mmmm, good. Yeah."

He has no interest in moving. Not now, and not any time soon. His groin feels like it's a dwarven artifice of cogs spinning and clicking, his thighs burn, and he slips his hands under Dorian's head, next, to just cradle it above the bed. 

His own face smushes into the pillow beside Dorian's, a low, low guttural call of 'yes that was a good idea, I very much enjoyed it, we should do that again when my balls wouldn't turn to ash if we tried'. 

"…I concur…" Dorian murmurs, intelligently. "Yes. That. Lots of that…"

Moving is for people who didn't just get their brains fucked out by a _very_ well-endowed Qunari. The cuddling is good, though, and Dorian wishes it to continue. Possibly all night. He likes many different Bulls, but snuggly, warm, post-coital Bull is one of his favourites.

"So… good bed?" Bull asks, a little slyly. "For… starter. Better when this over… so many pillows… places for… horns and shit." Yes. Qunari do at least know how to make a functional bed. Put a better mattress and nice bedding down and it's perfect. "Soft. Blankets. Chains…"

Dorian shivers shamelessly and curls in a little more. "Mmmmm. Yes. I like the sound of those, too. Especially the last one…"

When they do finally settle, and he doesn't have to worry about travelling or the end of the world and suchlike, it'll be a wonder if he ever walks again. Not that he'll complain… much.

"Mostly… ligature points for the ropes. Ropes… nice. Snug… tight… mmm, maybe get you a nice collar… cage, plug, all that…" Bull wriggles just a little. "For special 'ccasions. Not always."

"We're going to need a _lot_ of special occasions," Dorian breathes, happily. "I'm sure we can come up with all sorts of reasons…" Some of which might be 'because we feel like it'.

"And you'll need a lot of nice things. You know… accessorise your outfits and shit. I know a guy who can make leather flow like silk, and the strongest, most delicate-looking hoops you've ever seen…"

Bull, it turns out, knows a lot of useful people. Though he doesn't get through naming all their talents before Dorian decides to test the bed again.

(And again.)


	3. Chapter 3

The assault on Redcliffe Castle is planned the next day.

Although it's less an 'assault' and more an 'infiltration', judging by the plan the Herald has agreed to, which involves a small group going to the castle – at Alexius' invitation – to discuss the southern mages… whilst a team lead by Leliana sneaks in the back way and prepares to strike.

Dorian very much prefers the plan to the alternative – which apparently involved throwing every soldier they had at the place and hoping for the best – but he's still concerned about what will happen when they get in there.

Luckily, Lavellan is very much in favour of taking both Dorian and Bull with her, which at least means Dorian might get a chance to talk Alexius down before this all goes to the Void. Maybe.

They travel separately from Leliana's group, so that there's no cause for suspicion if they're spotted, meaning that it's just Lavellan, Varric, Dorian and Bull heading back out of the Frostbacks and towards Redcliffe once more.

And – to Dorian's significant lack of delight – camping close to the shore of Lake Calenhad, because apparently planning your route to make regular stops at taverns is a talent people other than Bull don't have. Or something. That's what he grouses, at least, and even more so when he realises this means they have to be _quiet_ all night.

And they are. (Mostly).

The next morning sees the four of them sitting around their campfire, having a quick breakfast before they get back on the road.

"…Maybe if we seize control of the castle, we can sleep there tonight…" Dorian murmurs, still overcoming his dislike of mornings on top of his dislike of camping.

"You sure you even _sleep_?" Varric asks. "Because I'm not sure you understand the meaning of the word."

"Dorian sleeps plenty. He just needs… a little encouragement, first." Bull nudges his elbow into his lover's side. 

"Well. At one point I couldn't work out if you'd decided you weren't friends any more, but then…" The dwarf whistles between his teeth. "Gotta say, it'd make a hell of a page turner. Not too sure on the market for it, but I think I have enough of a following that the publishers would take the risk."

"I think people would _love_ to read about us," Bull replies, puffing his chest out. "Even if they may not admit it."

"We _are_ a delight," Dorian concurs. "Although _imagine_ the scandal when the news gets back to Tevinter… not only have I absconded with a Qunari – a _male_ Qunari – and joined some kind of weird southern cult, but now, to top it all off, I'm going to feature in erotic literature." He manages a slightly tired but still over-dramatic swoon. "The drama! What a shame I shall miss it."

"You won't miss it. By the time we hit the Imperium, you'll have a cult following of your own. And I don't mean a religious one…" Bull grins. "If you want any background information… oh. How much do you know about the Qun?"

"More than I want to, and less than I need." Varric shakes his head, a little mournfully. "I was there for the whole mess in Kirkwall with the Arishok. Now _there's_ a popular book."

" _'The Tale of the Champion'_ ," Dorian says. "Unsurprisingly it wasn't well-known in Tevinter, but I happened upon a copy in a tavern on my journey south. Before I met Bull," he adds, as if anyone could believe he had time to do things like _read_ after that. "Some parts of it I found hard to believe. Others… not so much."

He wants to ask so many questions, about Hawke, and the mage-sister she protected, and the mage-lover who started a war, and the runaway slave he's _sure_ he saw at a party once. But… possibly now is not the time. 

"I meant the one the Arishok was after," Varric replies, though he's beaming widely. "But I'll take any compliment I get."

Lavellan sits forward, eyes on Dorian and Bull. "How _did_ you two meet, anyway?"

Honestly, Dorian is surprised she hasn't asked sooner. Lavellan asks a _lot_ of questions, though perhaps that part makes sense, given she's lived most of her life in a Dalish clan.

"Bull and I?" Dorian replies. "Oh, he got himself recruited by a deranged templar who Alexius sent after me. They attacked me on the road, abducted me, and tried to take me back to Tevinter. Except, on the way, Bull decided he actually rather liked me, one thing led to another, the templar tried to kill me and failed… and here we are."

"That's… a very brief, but accurate account." Bull is rather surprised it's so short, considering Dorian's usual garrulousness. "He also convinced me that the reason he was wandering around without a horse in the south was a _good_ one. Aside from the part where I like him."

"The Venatori," Varric surmises. "And whatever the shit they're doing with Corypheus."

"Precisely," Dorian replies. "I knew Alexius was involved with them, and I thought he'd gone south, so I went after him. Unfortunately for me, he'd doubled-back and sent a templar after me. An ex-Kirkwall templar, too. _Luckily_ for me, the templar needed help, and I rapidly won Bull over with my wit and charm. And my moral compass. We've been chasing down Alexius pretty much ever since."

"And you say he was your mentor?" Lavellan asks.

Dorian nods. "Yes. For many years. Until Felix contracted the Taint… and Alexius lost his way. And… I understand your dealings with him have to take priority. Closing the Breach is the most important thing now, and you need the southern mages to do it. But… if he can be saved without compromising that…"

"…we will," Lavellan tells him, more softly. "I'll do all I can."

"And part of the reason I wanted to know about your knowledge of the Qun," Bull says, to the elf, almost off-handedly, "…is that Dorian isn't the only one who can potentially help you with information. Not only do I have my soldiers, and spies… but have you heard of the Ben-Hassrath?"

"Oh, don't even _joke_ about that." Varric huffs. "First it's Red, and now you? Is everyone running more spies than me?"

"I don't have any spies," Dorian insists. "Not… of my own, at least. Unless you count Felix. Am I running Felix? I never thought of it that way…"

When he trails off – genuinely wondering if Felix _does_ count – Lavellan manages to get a word in again.

"The Ben-Hassrath?" she repeats. "I'm… afraid I haven't. My clan didn't have a great deal of contact with the Qunari."

"Probably for the best. Though you may well have met more Qunari than you realise… the term refers to those who follow the Qun, rather than those of a specific race." Bull has – like Dorian – had to explain this principle more than once. 

"Right. Like Tallis." Varric scrubs at his scalp. "She was one of your lot."

"Ah, so you have met Ben-Hassrath before… but for your understanding," Bull addresses Lavellan again, "…Qunari 'names' are actually more like… ranks, titles, job descriptions. There are plenty of Tallis working for the Ben-Hassrath, the 'Heart of the Many'. Technically priests, but in practice… well. Priests who spy, assign duties, raise children, and deal with _bas_ affairs and converts."

Lavellan stares a little. "You're a spy? And you're happy just… admitting that?"

"Why not?" Bull tilts his head to one side. "And technically I am. But in reality, it's a lot more complicated." He nods to Dorian, by way of an explanation.

"I am _very_ complicated," Dorian concurs, brightly. "And Bull… he's sort of a rogue spy. Or double-agent? Or something. It's still new, but we're working it out. You can trust him, though… said the mage from Tevinter. I know, I know, I can hear the words as I'm speaking them…"

"Yeah, well… Qunari who go rogue: they're called Tal-Vashoth. And my cover was to act like I was one. Partially because I can fit in better than most of my people, and partially because… they probably suspected I was… a little… complicated." Bull smiles, wryly.

Varric's brows raise. "You think?"

"Dorian's preference for other men, and me being Qunari, and non-magical… well. Doesn't look good in Tevinter. For the Qun? I shouldn't be having a relationship, full stop. No matter the gender, species, or whether they wave a stick around to make fire or not. It's probably _worse_ that he's a Vint mage, but they'd be asking questions any which way. And if we're going to be around and helping out… either I tell you and we find a way to use it, or you find out in an unpleasant and unhelpful way."

Which Bull didn't mean to sound like a threat. 

"I'd prefer to help. Not hinder. And I believe the Qun would be more immediately interested in Corypheus than Dorian. No offence, kadan."

"None taken," Dorian replies. "Though it's their loss, of course." In this much, he's joking, because one of the last things he wants is for the Qun to decide he's _interesting_.

Lavellan, meanwhile, seems to take all this in. "So long as you're genuinely invested in helping the Inquisition, you'll get no quarrel from me. Do you think you might be able to get information from your contacts? Or would that arouse too much suspicion?"

"I definitely can get information from them. And _to_ them. The Qunari… it's a life many thrive under. Not for everyone, and not perfect, but… what group is?" Bull stretches, cracking out his knuckles. "They hate demons, blood magic, magisters… a Darkspawn old Tevinter Magister potentially ending the world? Yeah, they'll want to hear about it. And if I feed them the right information in, I'll get things back, and we can deal with the point they don't tolerate me any longer when it happens."

"That bad, huh?"

"That _good_." Bull glances to Dorian, and back again. "I made my choice. Dorian and I will use my influence while we can, but when it comes to the deal-breaker… they got no good reason for me to go back." 

Dorian puts his hand over Bull's, subtly enough. "And before anyone asks, I'm not a spy for Dread Tevinter. I do still have contacts there, though, so I might be able to get us a little extra help too."

He knows it's not to the same extent that Bull will be able to provide, but it's not nothing. And any leads they can get on the Venatori will be helpful. And… Alexius might also be able to give them something, if… _when_ … they stop what he's doing.

"So… you're gonna tell the Ben-Hassrath that you're… what? Not spying? I mean, I don't know how it works in Par Vollen, but here… spies tend to be… secret?" Varric glances to Lavellan. "Right?"

"Right," she replies. "Technically, _I_ was one, when my Keeper sent me to the Conclave. I was supposed to observe what was going on and report back. Though it's not really my speciality at all, and I'm happy to leave it to other people now."

"Well, you observed didn't you? I'm guessing you didn't get around to the second part…" Bull is more than a little amused. "I'm not hiding the fact I'm with Dorian, and intend on staying with him. So I'm going to take the – ahem – Qun by the horns and tell them I'm working with you. And that our interests are mutual. At some point, they will declare me Tal-Vashoth, but it's unlikely to be until we've solved the Corypheus shit. And I'll take that fight as far away from your guys as I can. I'd say 'look after Dorian', but he'd both kill me for implying he needed it, and for assuming I could keep him from the fight…"

"Damn right I would," Dorian interjects. "I told you I'd take on all of Par Vollen if that's what it comes to, and I meant it."

He realises this is perhaps more than he should admit in front of people he's still getting to know, but at the same time, he wants them to know his strength of feeling. And he wants Bull to know it won't ever waver.

"The Inquisition will protect you, whilst you're with us," Lavellan adds. "I realise we can't get into a political war with Par Vollen – or Tevinter, for that matter – but unofficially, we'll do what we can."

Bull actually looks a little surprised at that. It's a lot to offer, considering. It might be that it's lip-service, or that it's an ideal and the practicalities haven't come to light, yet, but… she seems to mean it, right now. And that's nice. 

"Thanks… I mean it." He does. "I won't be addressing every member of the rank and file… but if you want to let your inner council know, that's fine with me. I think your Inquisition… it's not so bad. Nice to find a group that has a goal I can believe in."

He nudges his boot against Dorian's, a silent acknowledgement of his promise. "I'm sure you have plenty of questions… we could do them on the road?"

Lavellan smiles. "I'll start making a list."

***

It's late afternoon by the time they reach Redcliffe Castle.

It stands, tall and magnificent, over the town sharing its name; catching the light of the low sun. As the Inquisition group approaches the main gate, there are quite a few soldiers around – bearing the emblem of the Venatori – and Dorian feels his stomach sink.

Alexius has clearly been busy.

They _are_ here with an invitation, however, so they get nothing more than suspicious looks as they're greeted at the gate, and led inside… where a friendlier face is waiting.

"Felix!" Dorian exclaims, surprised to see him here, and trying to appear and act as… normal? …as possible. Sometimes it's hard to tell in his case.

But Felix immediately looks grave. "You shouldn't have come," he says. "My father… he… he's not himself. I'm worried about what he'll do."

"All the more reason to come," Bull points out. "Kid… would it be better if you…" A thumb indicates over his shoulder. 

Bull doesn't want Felix hurt, by actions or by watching what happens. But he knows the man is unlikely to walk away now. "We want to help, remember?"

"I know," Felix says. "But I'm coming with you. I… won't get in the way."

"It's about more than physical risk," Dorian reminds him.

Felix sighs. "He's my father. I'm not leaving."

"…All right," Dorian concedes. "All right. Then… take us to him."

"Why do I get the feeling we're not going to be greeted with a round of drinks this time?" Varric mutters.

"It's alright. I'll buy you a drink when we get back to Haven. Hell, I'll buy a whole keg." Bull would like this very much to be over and done with, for Dorian's sake if nothing else.

"I'm gonna hold you to that."

"…Come on," Felix says. There's resignation in his voice, but determination too.

So he leads them through to the Great Hall, past guards who give them suspicious looks, but clearly don't dare argue with the magister's son. Beyond the great double-doors, the room is lined with more guards, an Elven woman who must be Grand Enchanter Fiona, and Alexius himself waiting at the far end, close to the fireplace.

And Dorian feels a slow, terrible calm descend on him; a calm he wishes he'd felt in Amaranthine, and part of him knows what it means, and part of him cannot, _cannot_ , engage with the fact.

"Felix… _step away_ from those **miscreants**." Alexius moves from alert in his throne to something much more threatening. He's very obviously surprised. "And Lavellan, I'm assuming you've been swayed by the boy's lies?"

"No," Felix says, flatly. Dorian can hear the waver in the younger man's voice, but only just, and he feels so terribly guilty for leaving him in this situation for so long. And he wants to step squarely in front of him, to shield him from his father, but he knows that right now, Felix is shielding _him_ , and they'll be having words about that later.

And he's grateful.

"I have been swayed by no one," Lavellan replies, her voice remarkably level given the clear threat in Alexius' own. "I'm here at your invitation, to discuss the Circle mages."

"With _them_." Alexius doesn't even bother to address Dorian, or look directly at him. And even less so with Bull.

"Yeah, you said there was a deal to be made," Varric points out. "What changed?"

"He did, apparently," Bull rumbles, sotto voce. 

"Felix… Step away from them, now. Once I give the Elder One what he wants… he's promised to save you." Alexius rises from his throne. "The world will be restored as it should be, and you will be by my side."

"Save me?" Felix repeats. "Even if I believed that was actually possible, the price is too high. Please, _please_ , just stand down."

"You should listen to him," Dorian says, well-aware that he's got mere moments to turn this before it gets completely out of hand. "I've been telling you that all along, but you were just too stubborn to do it."

"I will _not_ lose my son! And if the price is the rise of the Imperium again – then I will pay it! Two things you will never understand." He glares at Dorian, clearly on the cusp of something, and making no attempt to hide it.

"Kadan…"

"We want no part of this!" Grand Enchanter Fiona wrings her hands. "Please: I only wanted to keep my people safe from the templars!"

"And _you_ \--" Alexius turns his wrath to Lavellan, "…you were a _mistake_. If you hadn't **stolen** what is rightfully his… the Elder One was ready to do it _all_. Venatori! Kill them!"

Which is when there are a series of soft cracks and splutters, as figures emerge from the shadows, killing Alexius' guards on the spot, and in somewhat impressive unison. It's Leliana's people; their infiltration clearly a success. And it's good that they're so fast, because a second longer and Dorian knows he would have been spellcasting, and that would leave Alexius no choice but to respond.

Not that this is any guarantee it can be avoided entirely.

Lavellan waits – with perfect timing – for the last of the bodies to fall, before turning her eyes on Alexius once more.

"Your people are dead," she says. "But there's no need for us to harm the rest, or you. Surrender, and we can settle this without further bloodshed."

But Dorian can _feel_ any chance of that slowly sinking out of the picture. He knows the look in Alexius' eyes. He's seen it before. His mind hovers between two options for a second that weighs heavy indeed, and then he steps forward, staff kept down, free hand held out.

"Gereon, _please_ ," he implores. "Don't make this any worse."

Bull's hackles are well and truly raised. This is so very, very not good. He wants to charge forward, to put himself between Dorian (and Felix), but he knows that Felix is likely the one thing keeping Alexius from crashing the ceiling on their heads. Or trying to.

But that mage… nothing about him is right. It's love. Twisted and torn, but it's… he's not going to yield. And Bull is _dying_ inside, trying to ride the razor edge. Dorian needs this… needs to see it through. And if he moves, or speaks, it might well trigger an attack he won't be quick enough to defend Dorian from. And distract his mage. It's… hell.

"He wants _her_ dead. Stand with her, if you want. Or follow me when she falls." Alexius tosses a small amulet up, and warps reality in a shimmer of green around it. 

Dorian's mind processes the threat before he's had a chance to realise the actual nature of it. He pushes Felix roughly out of the way – trying to keep him out of danger – and swipes upwards with his staff, mana charging into it as it moves so that he can blast Alexius with as much magic as he can muster as, at the same moment, Lavellan raises her own staff, lightning licking along it.

" _No!_ " Dorian hears himself shout, but whether he's addressing Alexius, Lavellan or himself, he doesn't even know.

_The time amulet. He's got the time amulet._

Dorian fires a burst of magic at precisely the same moment as Alexius' spell triggers, and in a violent, spiralling burst of angry green, all of reality inverts…

***

…and Dorian stumbles forwards, into cold air, and… knee-high water?

Oh, that's not good. That's not good at all. He whirls around, trying to work out where he is, at which point he realises there's only one other person with him.

And it isn't Bull. It's Lavellan. Her eyes are wide with shock, and it's clear she too is fighting to get her bearings.

But before Dorian can say a word, there's a shout from the side.

"Intruders! Kill them!"

A pair of Venatori guards come charging at them, followed by two more from the opposite side, and both mages have no choice but to retaliate; staves raised and spellcasting with frantic speed. They're in a fairly small, stone-walled room, which doesn't give them much space to manoeuvre, but apparently Lavellan – like Dorian – has some training in fighting alongside another mage.

It's certainly been a while for Dorian, at least.

They quickly move to stand back to back, the air alight with magic as they fight, although it is a far easier battle than some of the others Dorian has faced of late, and not long before the last attacker falls, leaving him and Lavellan alone once more.

"What happened?" she exclaims. "Alexius… what did he do? Where are the others? And… where are we?"

Dorian's mind races, trying to work out what _has_ happened; struggling against the fear rising in his heart but desperate not to let it show.

"…I think a better question might be 'when'," he says, the word making his own stomach sink. "Alexius has clearly worked out some new uses for the time amulet, because I suspect he was trying to remove you from existence entirely. If it had worked… you'd never have done whatever it is you did at the Conclave, and Corypheus' plan would have succeeded."

"My being here suggests he failed."

"I tried to counter his spell," Dorian clarifies. "Both our magics combined at precisely the right – or wrong – instant, and… moved us through time."

He can't be _certain_ of this, but it's the most likely explanation, and it's usually best to sound like you know what you're talking about.

"So… you think we're still in Redcliffe Castle?"

Dorian nods. "It's more than likely. Though I don't know _when_ we are. For that… we'll need to find someone, and hope they're more interested in talking than killing us."

Lavellan gives him a careful look. "What about everyone else?"

"Alexius' spell wasn't large enough to affect us all. You were the target, and I was closest to you when it hit. The others… should be where and _when_ we left them."

_Bull_. Bull isn't here. Bull isn't here and Dorian has _no_ real idea if he's all right, and the thought is _killing_ him inside. And maybe more of it shows in his eyes than he wants, because Lavellan puts a cautious hand on his arm.

"We'll find a way back. There must be one."

"I believe there is," Dorian says, thinking fast again. "With the time amulet… I could reverse Alexius' spell. But that's contingent on us finding it. And on us being in a place where it actually exists."

"Then we'd better start looking."

"Agreed."

Anything is better than staying here.

***

They're clearly in the dungeons of a large castle – lending further weight to the theory that they're still in Redcliffe – but one that has suffered significant damage. There's flooding all over, and many of the rooms they find are crumbled or entirely blocked by debris.

And… there's something else.

"What _is_ this stuff?" Dorian murmurs, staring at a chunk of angry, red crystal that appears to be growing out of the wall; the air around it hot and threatening. "Is this… wasn't this in Varric's book?"

"Red lyrium," Lavellan answers. "We've seen it in other places. And yes, Varric first encountered it during his expedition to the Deep Roads with Hawke, years ago, but now it's started appearing all over."

"And you can feel the magic radiating off it, yes?"

Lavellan nods. "Yes. Makes me feel a little sick every time I get close. I'd recommend against touching it."

"That sounds like good advice."

***

But before long, they have something even worse to worry about.

They push open the door to a room that looks alarmingly like some sort of torture chamber. There are tools laid out on a table that Dorian doesn't want to examine too closely, and both they and a second table are covered in blood.

"… _Fasta vass_ , what happened here?" he breathes.

"I don't like the look of this," Lavellan manages, having gone somewhat pale.

"Nor I," Dorian concurs. "Maybe… oh, what's this?"

Ever the sort to be drawn to a book, he spots one lying at the end of the table, and picks it up. It quickly turns out to be a journal, filled with handwriting he knows belongs to Alexius. And the more he skim-reads some of the pages, the more he feels his stomach churn, and his blood blaze with anger.

"…This is some kind of research journal," he says, deciding to spare Lavellan the full details. "It belongs to Alexius, I'd know his handwriting anywhere. He's… been conducting experiments on the Blight. Trying to find a cure. This… the date… the latest entry is in early Harvestmere… 9:42 Dragon."

"9:42?" Lavellan repeats. "We're a whole year in the future?"

"At least," Dorian concurs. "But from this… Alexius has been continuing his efforts to find a cure for the Blight, only… he's been using live subjects. Prisoners. He… _vishante kaffas_ , this isn't just immoral, it's… _evil!_ We both swore we'd never… never even _think_ about doing something like this, and he…"

His eyes drift to the bloody table again, and all the mental walls come down.

"…we have to find him. We have to _stop this_. We have to get the amulet and return to our own time and make sure this _never_ …"

He trails off, staring into space for a moment; his mind cutting itself off from everything else to stop the reality of the situation driving him mad. He's not even aware of how long it lasts, but he's knocked out of it – at least enough to function – when Lavellan grabs his arm again, looking concerned.

"Hey," she says, "we can fix this. If we're in the future, and in Redcliffe Castle, then there's a good chance Alexius and the time amulet are both here. We just need to find him and take it, and we can make sure none of this ever happens."

Dorian takes a deep breath, trying to regain his focus, and to pull his mind back to the here and now. Even though he is not supposed to be in the here _or_ the now.

"Yes," he replies. "Yes, you're right. Come on, we need to keep moving."

And get as far away from this room of nightmares as possible.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...because nothing makes the dark future worse than going into it with an established relationship.
> 
> You may need blankets and ice-cream for this one!

More rooms, more crumbled passages and flooded hallways – and more of that red lyrium – and eventually, they come to a section of the dungeons that's lined with actual prison cells. Most are empty; a few contain old, old corpses that have obviously lain here for months.

And then, they spot movement at the end of a row of cells, behind the metal bars. Movement and an alarming red glow. Dorian hurries over, desperate for answers, and finds himself looking at Varric.

His body goes cold. If Varric is here… Bull might be here. And that realisation overrules all other thought.

"Varric?" Lavellan exclaims, surprise in her voice. "You're alive?"

"Herald?" The dwarf's voice is off, reverberating as if not-quite in the world. "Sparkler? I thought you were dead…"

"We were sent into the future," Dorian replies, trying to focus on logical thought, when his mind can now only think one thing. "It… you… you're _here_. Is Bull here too? He… I…"

He shouldn't ask. He should simply focus on getting himself and Lavellan back to their own time. Back to _his_ Bull. But the sight of Varric, here… if Bull is here too, Dorian can't just leave him. He _can't_.

"Eh… I think so? Don't know when I last saw him… we tried to fight back after – after we thought Alexius killed you… but he had help. Big help." Varric squints up at them. "You know… for once I'd like there to be no weird shit. But if you're here… tell me you have a plan?"

"We do," Lavellan answers. "We think we can get back to our own time, and stop all this from happening, if we can find the amulet that– …Dorian, wait!"

It's at this point that Dorian loses it completely; turning and hurtling out of the room. If Bull is here, then he has to find him. He _has_ to. His mind is wild, and racing faster than he can consciously keep up with, and the terror overtaking him is like nothing he's ever felt before.

"Amatus!" he shouts, frantic. "Amatus, it's me, are you here?!"

No answer. Heart thumping in his chest, he makes it to the next section of the prison, blasting the door right off its hinges with a swipe of the hand and rushing inside. But there's nothing. _Nothing_ , but empty cells and debris. And more of that accursed red lyrium.

Back out into the corridor – distantly aware of Lavellan shouting from the room where they found Varric – and he keeps going, down to the next door. Another bang and a thud as he smashes the door to the ground, looking around desperately…

…and seeing a familiar silhouette in one of the dark cells.

Bull stands, peering into the corridor beyond his cell. He's in one piece, though there's a few… extra pieces. A swirl of red, and a few places that don't look quite right. 

He squints his eye at the thing-that-looks-like-Dorian, then grunts and turns his back. Demons like to pull this shit. Fuck with your mind, to see if you'll break. It's been a while since anyone bothered, but he knows their tricks too well. 

The trick is to make a lot of noise inside your own head so you can't hear what they're saying.

" _Amatus_ ," Dorian gasps, feeling like he's just been stabbed squarely in the chest. Almost wishing he had, because it would be easier than this.

_A year. A whole year_.

"…it's me, I'm here, I'm real, I promise, I…"

Hand out, and he uses a sudden burst of mana-force to rip the cell door open and then just sort of _stops_ , because he's immediately aware of the risks of charging in on Bull when the other man is not in his right mind. Which… he clearly isn't, because he's been through a whole year of…

…fuck, fuck, _fuck_ …

Bull is trying to ignore the voice, even if it says… even if it…

It's a trick, a trap. Something to lift his hopes, to dash them again. To torture him, or to try to get something from him. Either way, you don't listen to demons. 

Even if they sound… did they always sound so desperate? 

He hears the forceful rip of metal from metal, but it's a flinch reaction that lifts his shoulders, bracing, not… not what it would have been.

"My kadan died." He shouldn't respond, but he can't not. And the damn, vile, disgusting creature must know that. "I have nothing to tell you. You already won."

Dorian chokes back a sob, forgets any lingering caution and throws his arms around Bull from behind. He feels strange, and there's a heat in him that wasn't there before… but it's him. It's _him_.

"Your kadan is here," he gasps, brokenly. "I'm real, I swear it to you."

Bull's back arches in protest, because… when was the last time anyone touched him, and it didn't hurt? He sounds like Dorian. He… feels like Dorian. He… fuck, but he _smells_ like him.

"I saw you die. I – there was a scorch mark, on the floor. You were dead."

Wasn't he? And the Herald. Just… gone. Had to be. They wouldn't have let all this shit happen otherwise. 

"We didn't die," Dorian manages. "The spell misfired and sent us into the future. We've only been here a short time, and we're trying to find a way back, so we can stop whatever's gone wrong from happening, and… _amatus_ , it's me, I'm alive, it's all right…"

It isn't. It isn't all right in the slightest.

Cautiously, Bull lifts a hand and touches one of those holding him. Soft. Warm. Comforting. Fuck, but he wants it to be true. 

Demons can get anywhere inside your head. Anything he'd ask for proof… wouldn't they already know?

And if it's a trick, why is it asking for help to… stop things?

"You… you don't know? You… weren't here, for everything that… kadan?" He tries to make it known he wants to turn to face him. He can read him better that way. Maybe convince himself one way or another of the truth. "You don't know…"

Dorian lets him turn, immediately putting both hands on his face, trying to stamp down the reaction inside that is completely breaking him apart. He knows none of this is his fault. None of it. But all he can see is the man he loves, abandoned for a year in what has clearly become a nightmare.

"I don't know," Dorian echoes. "But you can tell me. You can tell me what happened. You… wanted to go into the future to see what we did right, remember? But… it went wrong instead. Tell me what went wrong. Tell me, and I can fix it. _Please_."

Fix it. _Fix it_. Yes. He did say that, didn't he? And why would a demon…

Bull's larger hands coil around Dorian's, and he lowers his head to touch. It's so achingly familiar, but it's been… it's been…

"Corypheus. With – Alexius and the Venatori… they got rid of the Herald, said she stole that mark. Nobody could stop him. A demon army, this red shit, templars, wardens, Venatori… there's no world _left_ , kadan… and…"

He doesn't want to say it. But.

"…he never found the cure. Felix…"

"…I know, that part I know," Dorian gasps. Or… he knows enough, and can't bear to engage with the rest, because he's already in too much pain. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen, but I'll do everything I can to stop it, to _save_ you, I…"

He can't keep his hands off the other man, trying to soothe him even though he knows there's nothing he can do in the short term. He _has_ to do it anyway, because the agony in Bull's voice is destroying him.

"If you can fix this… do. This is the world we were fighting to make sure it never happened… This… this is why you left the Imperium, and why we all followed you." He clutches Dorian's elbows, and squeezes. "I – I tried – I tried to fight, but without you…"

Without him, he'd gone to pieces. Only stubborn spite kept him breathing, and the hope he might one day snap Alexius' neck. "You _have_ to stop him. Tell me what to do to help."

"Come with us," Dorian answers at once. "Help us fight. If we can get to Alexius, and take the time amulet from him, I can use it to get back to the moment we left, and then I can make sure that none of _this_ ever happens."

It's at this point that Lavellan and Varric walk into the room; clearly cautious and holding back a little when they see the two men close together.

"Is he..?" Lavellan starts out.

"He's alive," Dorian answers, not turning. "But we have to make it so none of this ever happens. We _have_ to."

"Get me something heavy, and I'll crush whoever needs crushing. The world needs to never see what happens when you two lose," Bull growls. 

He wants to hold him. Squeeze him into his chest. Breathe in his scent and never let go. Feel those hands on his face, on his horns… it isn't even sexual. Bull isn't sure he even could, if he tried. He just…

Instead, he pulls his head in again, behind his neck, and reaches his right hand for Dorian's left, so he can feel the press of the ring against his skin. "There's a very worried amatus waiting for you, you know. I can't let you keep him waiting."

The embrace is good. Agonising, but good… and then Bull says _that_ , and Dorian jumps back. "…What?" he exclaims, suddenly struck by a wave of _panic_ as his mind processes the looming realisation he hasn't let himself consider until now. "No… no. I won't leave you behind, I can't!"

"Kadan… you told me no one can change the past. That's _my_ past. But not yours… He's back there. He hasn't lost you…" Bull waves down at himself. "I'm dying. Isn't that right, Varric?"

"Eh… he's got a point," Varric replies. Not at all happy.

"Besides. You couldn't handle two of me."

"Yes I fucking well could!" Dorian retorts, angry and terrified and wracked by pain that won't fade, because there's nothing he can do about it. "I'm not abandoning you!"

"Dorian… if we don't go back, we can't prevent all of this," Lavellan says, though it's clear she's affected too. "Varric told me what happened. He said the Venatori assassinated the Orlesian empress, and then Tevinter invaded with an army of demons. So if we go back and stop that assassination, it will put us on the road to making sure our future is a better one."

"…anything would be better than this," Dorian manages, trying not to break down.

"Let me help you… you'll mean I don't have to happen." Bull cups his face, very, very gently. "Isn't that better?"

He certainly wishes the last year didn't happen. At all. And has done for every day since he thought he'd lost the love of his life. "The world needs you." 

Bull holds him still, and leans in to murmur for his ears alone. " _He_ needs you. More than I could ever tell you. Kadan… finish what we started. _Sataareth kadan hass-toh issala ebasit_." 

Dorian wants to sob. And to scream. And to rip the walls apart until the whole castle comes down on his head. And… to drink. A _lot_. But he can't do any of these things. Or… shouldn't, at least.

"All right," he whispers, but he's clearly distraught. "All right. We… we have to get out of these dungeons and find Alexius. The sooner, the better."

The rest… he can't engage with. Can't. His mind starts blocking parts of itself off again, because it's the only way he knows to keep functioning. And even then, it doesn't stop the pain. Just dulls it somewhat.

"You kill anyone with an axe? Hammer? Sword? Hunk of metal?" Bull asks, looking over to Lavellan, because he's not sure he can look at Dorian right now. 

"Think I saw some outside… you want to come pick one?" Varric offers. 

"Sounds good." Bull glances down at Dorian again, and… no. No. He has to fight, so he follows Varric out of the cell. 

"…Dorian…" Lavellan says, quietly, clearly trying to help.

"…it's all right," Dorian lies, flatly. They both know he's doing it, but perhaps they both know he needs to, because Lavellan doesn't call him out on it. "I can do this. I have to get you home, so you can save the world."

"So _we_ can save the world," she corrects. "Come on. We can try to find out more about this future from Varric and Bull as we go. The more we know, the more we can be prepared for."

At least one of them is thinking clearly.

***

With everyone armed, they head onwards; finally finding a stairway leading up and out of the dungeons, and into the castle itself. From the lighting, it's dark outside, and the cold air is heavy with the distant but unmistakable scent of blood.

And there's no one around; the silence oppressive.

"We should head back towards the Great Hall," Lavellan says. "It's as good a place to start as any."

"Agreed," Dorian manages. "Though if we can find anyone alive who might be able to tell us more… that would help."

"If you checked the cells… there's a few places I can suggest," Bull says, studiously avoiding everyone's eyes. "Enchanter might still be around. And… there's a room they take folks."

"Oh. _Yeah_." Varric shudders. "If there's anyone there, they'll jump at the chance to help."

Dorian shivers, the undertones to this all too clear. "We should check," he says. "If Alexius is here… I doubt he'll give the amulet up willingly. Which means we'll have to fight him, so the more allies we have, the better."

But Dorian knows one thing. He won't hesitate this time. If Alexius wants a fight to the death, he'll get it.

Lavellan nods. "I agree," she says, and then turns to Varric and Bull. "Do you know where this room is? Or how we might find it?"

"Yeah." Bull knows how many steps, which turns, how long it takes. The feel of the stone slabs under his bare feet. "It's this way."

He takes point, hefting his axe (thankfully they'd not been stupid enough to melt down such a thing of beauty), and delights (as much as he can) in cleaving through what Venatori they do encounter. 

It's not long before he's breaking open a door. On the other side of which Leliana is suspended from her wrists, currently dispatching the single Venatori who thought they'd be enough.

"Not dead," she says, releasing herself. Like the others, she appears to have aged a century in only a year. 

"Leliana," Lavellan exclaims, clearly equal parts pleased and horrified to find her alive in here. "Are you all right? Can we help?"

_Do you know where Alexius is?_ Dorian wants to ask, but makes himself hold back, at least for a moment. Because… Leliana has clearly been faced with more than her fair share of questions already, and this room is too much like the one they found in the main dungeons for Dorian's taste.

"Assuming you have a plan." She's already arming herself, all business. "One that prevents this."

"That was the general idea," Bull agrees. 

"Can you do it?"

"Alexius sent us forward in time," Dorian replies. "So if we find him and take possession of the amulet he used… I should be able to reverse the spell and send us back to the moment we left."

_Should_. He doesn't actually know for certain if he can or not, but he's reasonably confident of it. He has to be, because the alternative… he can't live with the alternative.

"The magister will be in his _chambers_ ," Leliana concludes, running a finger over the flights of her arrows. And then her eyes narrow at Dorian and Lavellan in turn. "You do know this – this world right now – is why people fear mages, don't you?"

"Yeah, and for every one of them that goes crazy and tries to wipe out the world, how many of them didn't? Or actively try to stop it?" Bull counters. 

"…he's got a point, Red. It's just the ones who go crazy… tend to do more damage on the way down."

Leliana doesn't deign to give a response. 

"I know my countrymen have done some terrible things," Dorian says, though his voice is soft and level, the emotion hidden beneath the surface. "But hating all of us for the actions of a few is the same as me hating you because you're Orlesian. Which I don't, by the way."

He really doesn't. Though he's already a lot less fond of this future version than the woman he's started getting to know.

"Either way, arguing gets us nowhere. A mage caused this situation, and a mage is going to fix it. So if nothing else, you can just call it even."

Leliana stares at him, her expression utterly unreadable. "I did not say I hated you. Simply that this is the kind of situation everyone wishes to avoid. You will have to understand that you may have blinked into this world, but we… have bled through it."

"So let's make it so it never needed our blood." Bull puts his hand on Dorian's shoulder, squeezing. "Lavellan didn't plan to get that damn thing on her. Dorian said no to Alexius' offer. We should be grateful we have such good mages ready to help us. And I mean good in _both_ senses."

"Who remembers the way to the throne room? Gotta say, it's been a while for me…" Varric pipes in, steering the talk to more productive topics. 

"I reviewed the floor plan before we left Haven," Lavellan says, her eyes drifting to Leliana as she speaks; a conversation that was mere days ago for her but practically a lifetime for her spymaster. "This way."

***

Getting to Alexius proves to be harder than simply finding the throne room. When they do, they discover the entrance blocked by a huge and ancient-looking door – obviously installed sometime in the last year – which seems designed only to open if fitted with several keys.

Keys that turn out to be made of red lyrium.

They're forced to take them from the remaining Venatori members who hold them, in several short, sharp battles that only make Dorian more and more aware of how _long_ this is taking, and how much he _needs_ to resolve it, and…

…and how he has no idea what to do about Bull.

Except he does. But he doesn't even know if it would work.

Eventually, with the keys in hand, they're able to open the door… and beyond it lies the throne room, which is in no better condition than the rest of the castle, but is at least _warmer_ , thanks to the fire roaring at the far end.

And the room isn't empty.

"YOU!" Alexius may not be weathered by red lyrium, but his face is haggard and he looks like a man who hasn't slept right in months. "I thought I killed you already!"

"As if you could kill him," Bull spits, too angry not to stride in, axe raised. "I should have cut your head off the minute I met you…"

Alexius' staff comes up, the fabric of the world suddenly _warping_ as he draws demons into the room, vile and already on the offensive. 

"We got these, you two take out Alexius." Varric and Bianca are already three bolts down before he's finished speaking. 

Dorian doesn't need telling twice. And, in so many ways, he's glad Alexius' response is to attack them on sight, because he's not sure what he'd do if the man tried to talk instead. It's easier just to see what's in front of him: the person who helped destroy the world, and who did all those terrible things in bloodstained rooms, rather than the mentor, the _friend_ , he once was.

The battle is immediately vicious, and to make matters worse, Dorian is still re-learning how you spellcast here. Because… it's not quite the same. Some of it is, but many of his abilities are powered or enhanced by warping the Veil, which no longer exists. But there's _something_ else behind it, something similar – something he's sure is actually far stronger – that he can use instead. It's just different. Like trying to read mirror-writing: it still makes perfect sense, so long as you know which way to go.

And he's seeing red. His emotions are running as hot as flame, and under different circumstances, he'd be warning Bull to keep him _away_ from Alexius, before he does something he'll regret.

The trouble is, this time he won't regret it.

He's aware of the screech of the demons, and the tang in the air from all the summonings. Aware of the clash of metal on flesh, and of arrows whistling through the air. Aware of Lavellan, at his side, unleashing a veritable storm of lightning on Alexius, as Dorian uses his own knowledge of the man's fighting style to try to tear through his barriers. It is not easy. He's always been so good at this.

The three non-mages focus on the demons of all kinds which are more than a handful, and Bull isn't fighting with an eye on survival. He's focused only on damage, not caring to stop blows come through if they're not crippling. 

And in the middle of it all, in a swirl of robes and elemental fury, Alexius lashes out. 

But it's… not disciplined. Not controlled. Emotional reactions and almost a resigned early defeat as he battles the two back.

Green against green, and when the air tinges with purple there's a misstep. Just one, and he staggers as something breaks through. Fear, anger, hate… it rushes over his features as he takes a broken step backwards, hand raised in an attempt to block again. 

Dorian sees an opportunity.

It's a dangerous one. Very, very dangerous, because it requires him to do something mages are _trained_ not to do.

_Don't drop your staff._ Not unless you have _no_ other choice. Your staff is your weapon, and whilst you can spellcast without it, you're so very much stronger _with_ it. Only… sometimes you need both hands free.

Dorian makes a split-second decision, loosing one more bolt of magic at Alexius and then letting his staff drop to the ground, at the same time as launching _himself_ at the man. He's shut off from everything in his mind, all the emotion gone, unable to see anything but a _target_.

Which… makes it easier to draw the knife from his belt in mid-step; the knife Bull gave him. His _asala_. The metal flashes in the firelight as Dorian uses one last burst of mana to smash through Alexius' barrier; seizing him as the spell shatters around them and slamming him back against the wall beside the fireplace.

And… driving the knife into Alexius' chest.

"You should have fucking _listened to me_ ," Dorian gasps.

For a moment, Alexius doesn't seem to register what's happened. He's staring right ahead, and it takes a second or two for his eyes to turn to his once-student. His hand comes up to where the blade is pushed in deep. Blood starts to stain through the fabric, darkening the red still further. 

"I lost her. Then I lost you. Then I lost him."

Alexius' eyes close, though there's still shallow, slightly-gurgly breathing. 

"I wanted to save just one." 

The emotion in Dorian _surges_ back to the surface, because suddenly he _is_ looking at his former mentor, his former friend, rather than simply a target. Because he can see the man who taught him how to _be_ , who made him the person he is today. Who never wrote him off, when everyone else did.

"You could have," he chokes out, eyes suddenly full of tears. "I could have been there for you. I could… I wanted…"

The man in his arms goes limp, and drops, and all Dorian can do is lower him to the ground; sliding the blade free and then reaching to lift the time amulet from around his fallen mentor's neck.

" _Maker have mercy_ ," he whispers, and stands, and turns…

…to find far too many eyes on him; the demons dead, the battle over. And only now does he realise he's covered in rather a lot of blood – made worse by the fact he somehow thought today was a good day to wear _pale_ robes – with the knife still in one hand, and the amulet swaying from the other.

"Kadan…"

Bull is the one to break the silence, and he's a pace forwards when a sudden thudding, angry noise hits in the distance, but closing by the second. 

"The Elder One." Leliana's voice _is_ filled with hate this time. "You have to do the ritual now."

Varric pushes the butt of his weapon into Bull's thigh. Bull nods, then makes eye-contact with Lavellan. "You know what I need to ask."

Evidently she does. "You need me to get him back alive. Back to _you_. And you need me to make sure this never happens. I will do everything in my power, I swear. _Ma serannas_. We couldn't have got this far without you."

"Wait, what?!" Dorian exclaims, realising what's going on. "No! I can't just _leave_ you here!"

"You aren't. There won't _be_ a 'here' to have left me," Bull says, closing the distance to grab Dorian by the collar and pull him in close. "You've seen what happens if you and the Herald aren't there to save everyone. I need you to go back. To save _me_. I never want to go another fucking **minute** without you."

"Hate to break up the moment, but…" Varric nods to the door. "We don't have long."

Bull grabs Dorian's chin, unable to help himself from stealing one last, painful kiss. "He needs you. _I_ needed you. Don't let him know a day without you, kadan. It killed him." 

He steps back, pulling his axe between them, and closing his eye before he turns his back, unable to face his expression as he leaves. 

" _No!_ " Dorian howls, jamming the knife back into his belt and trying to race after Bull. But Lavellan has hold of him before he can get very far, and she must be augmenting her own strength as she does because even when he flat-out _thrashes_ to break free, it does nothing.

"Dorian," she gasps, pain in her voice too, "Dorian, we have to go back. We have to stop this from happening, and you're the only one who knows how to make that amulet work."

" _I love him_ ," Dorian whispers, distraught. "I can't…"

Lavellan pulls him round and puts both hands on his shoulders, which somehow doesn't lose its effect despite her being a full head shorter than him. " _He's waiting for you_. He's waiting for you back in our time, where he never had to go through this nightmare. But if you don't get us back there, he _will_ suffer all of this. The entire _world_ will suffer all of this."

She's right. Of course she's right. Dorian hates it intensely, but he can't deny it.

"…all right," he gasps. "All right. It… it will take a few minutes. This is _highly_ experimental magic…"

Leliana squares up to the door, bow drawn, as the thudding and screeching gets closer. "You have as much time as I have arrows," she says, expression set.

_Thud. Thud. Thud_. The distant sounds are like a knocking at the door to the Void, and Dorian doesn't ever want to see what's on the other side. He turns and swipes up his staff, pulling Lavellan over to the place they were standing – a year ago – when Alexius first cast his spell.

The amulet rises in his hand, and he can feel the magic surging through it: magic he can manipulate, and shape, and bend to his will, and… _kaffas_ , but it's so _powerful_ …

As the air starts to fill with spiralling green, the door bursts open, and demons of every kind spill through it. Leliana launches into battle with unshakable fury, and instinct makes both Dorian and Lavellan try to surge forward, to help.

But they can't, and they force themselves to stay where they are; the battle growing more and more terrible as the light grows brighter and brighter. Dorian sees Leliana go down; subsumed by a wave of demons, and then there's a thunderous burst of light, as all of reality inverts…


	5. Chapter 5

…and Dorian stumbles forward, into the same room but _different_.

Familiar. Dancing firelight. Faces. Faces he knows. Bull. Varric. Felix. Leliana, in the shadows. All of them here. Alive. Intact. And… in front of him, Alexius. Alexius, who Dorian killed not moments ago. Who he'll have to kill _again_ , if he doesn't put a stop to this _right now_.

He drops his staff, grabs the man, and slams him into almost exactly the same part of the wall as before. But this time, the blade is at his throat, not in his chest, and Dorian's eyes are furious.

" _Stand down!"_ he shouts. "It's _**over**_."

"D-dorian?" Alexius' hand falls, and the amulet clatters to the stone floor below. "It's… over." The sheer grief in his voice is palpable, washing through him as his head lowers in shame.

"…kadan, are you hurt?" Bull knows he should let this happen, but Dorian is – he was right here, then he suddenly is covered in blood? Even knowing magic, some things are difficult to process at speed. 

Bull's voice goes through Dorian like the sharpest blade imaginable, deadly and beautiful, and the sheer _relief_ at knowing he's all right mixes with the _horror_ at not knowing whether that dark, terrible future still exists, on some other plane. Dorian doesn't _think_ it does, but… he can't know for sure.

But he has to focus on the here and now.

"I'm all right, amatus," he answers, without turning; not daring to take his eyes off Alexius for a second. "It isn't my blood. It's _yours_ ," he hisses, now clearly addressing the man in front of him. "I've already killed you once today. For the love of the Maker, don't make me do it a second time."

He hasn't even processed that Alexius is clearly surrendering; his mind too caught in the nightmare he's just left to want to allow the slightest risk of it happening again.

"Dorian, it's OK," Lavellan says, gently. "Let us deal with him now."

"You won. You won." Alexius looks barely able to stand. "I will not continue this charade any longer."

Bull fixes his axe away, and walks up with soft, but audible steps. "Kadan… put down the blade. It is over."

It's a moment before Dorian moves, but that's as much because he _can't_ as he won't. He lowers the knife and takes a step back, his mind racing with all the things he wants to say to Alexius; every word dying long before it reaches his tongue.

And then he slips the blade into his belt again and turns, and Bull is there, _there_ , and he's all right, and it's over, and he just staggers into the other man, arms thrown around him and breaking into silent, wracked sobs of relief, without a care for who sees.

"Boss?" Bull asks, addressing the Herald.

"Take care of him," she answers at once, clearly concerned, but torn between too many responsibilities. "We have this under control now."

That's all Bull needs. He scoops Dorian up, nodding to Felix very brusquely as he strides through the castle, taking him somewhere he can comfort him in private. As flamboyant and 'open' as Dorian can be… there are some things he knows he won't want others to witness. 

When he finds a small room, lined with bookshelves and stuffed with couches, he sits and pulls him sideways over his lap, arms around him, still murmuring that low reassurance that's not stopped since he absconded with him.

"Kadan… it's alright. You did it. It's alright. It's over." 

Dorian has clearly gone completely to pieces; if the shuddering breaths and wild eyes are anything to go by. He's spent the last howeverlong fighting a losing battle against his own emotions, managing to stem the tide for brief periods only to have it seep back through, but now the flood defences are down and he's _drowning_.

He's always thought there could be no nightmare worse than succumbing to a demon. But there is. There is, and he's just been in the middle of it.

"…we… the future… it was… I couldn't…"

"You're back from there, now. That's gone, kadan. It's gone. You did it. You stopped it… or you changed it, and now we stop it…" Bull has his arms everywhere at once, cuddling him and gliding over arms, over his hair, his sides. He wishes he could just squeeze the pain right out, or – or fight it – but all he can do is rock his mate gently back and forth. 

"It's gone. You've saved the mages. You've saved Alexius. It's done. It's done." 

Dorian curls into him more, clinging on as hard as he can, _needing_ to feel him there, alive and real and safe and… and not broken by a year of unspeakable torment…

"… _fuck_ ," he gasps, the reality of the situation still not sinking in because the memories are too strong. "…I left you behind… you made me leave you behind and there was nothing I could do…"

"I…" It makes sense that he was there, right? Bull hadn't even thought that through, and he tries very rapidly to run through sequences. "It… must have made sense to me. I… if you came back, that means… what you saw never happened?"

His hand on the back of his neck, very softly kneading. "In that case, you didn't leave me behind. And I'm right here."

" _Don't go_ ," Dorian chokes, holding on so tight his whole upper body hurts. "Don't go, I love you, I love you, _fuck_ , I love you…"

He's not even close to thinking clearly yet; the emotions coming in waves that overwhelm him as each one hits: rage, grief, terror, again and again. And the only thing stopping him from exploding with it is the arms holding him; the warm body he's pressed against. The heartbeat that he can feel, in between his shallow, rapid breaths.

"I… you know I'd never… if I had even the slightest choice… I'd _die_ before I abandoned you…"

Except he did. And… didn't. And it's a paradox that won't resolve.

"I'm not going anywhere." Bull says that with such a resolute, angry growl… but it's not Dorian he's angry with. It's Alexius, and this whole, fucked up shit. "I promise. I'm not going anywhere. Fuck, I'll close my eyes and come in the shitter with you when you need to go, if it helps. I'm not leaving. Not ever, not ever."

Bull kisses at the tears under his eyes, and runs his nose along a cheek. It's hurting him to see this. Hurting like fucking hell, and he has no idea what it is he can do to help. He briefly thinks about pointing out that technically 'he' left Dorian, if he forced him to go, but he doesn't think that would make a difference.

"I know. You came back to me, see? You always come back to me. You never run, not far, anyway. And if you did, I would find you." Bull lifts Dorian's hand to the small, silver key. "You came _back_ to me. And I am so fucking sorry I couldn't be there to help you… _so_ fucking sorry…"

Dorian chokes back another sob and turns in Bull's arms, moving to straddle his lap so he can grasp his face in both hands. "I'm _glad_ you didn't have to see what the world became," he says. "I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Not even Alexius. Not even the damn templar. And… you _were_ there to help me. Not just… not just the other version of you, but _you_ …"

His hand goes to the bloodied knife at his belt, resting over it but not drawing it. "My _asala_. A part of you I always have to defend me. Remember? So… so it's all right, and we won, and we're OK, and…"

He is clearly and decidedly _not_ OK, but he's now hit the part where he tries to convince himself that he is, as a coping mechanism. It's not great, but it's better than his more alcohol-based coping mechanisms, so it's a start.

Bull can't help the choked little laugh, and his hand covers Dorian's. "Yes. Yes. I always am… though I should remind you that you need to _clean_ blades, when they're… ah. Used."

He curls Dorian's fingers over the hilt, and they draw it together. Bull pulls Dorian's hand to his lips, and kisses the fingers. "Wipe it clean. Wipe it clean, and then I'll wash you clean, too. Wash this horrible nightmare from you, so you know it's over. It's over. And you did it. Alexius surrendered, you didn't kill him, and he hasn't hurt anyone any more."

He's… well, he isn't wrong. Dorian knows that. He set out on this journey in the first place to stop Alexius doing something terrible, and although things are so much more complicated now, in that part he's succeeded. Mostly. So he should be pleased about that, but the emotion is buried under too many others and he hasn't gotten down to it yet.

"I know," he gasps, and maybe soon he'll feel it too. "I know. I'm so sorry I keep putting you through this… my life really can be a massive clusterfuck at times…"

He doesn't have anything to clean the blade with, but he's covered in so much blood that a little more really won't make a difference, so he wipes it off on his sleeve… blood that hasn't even finished drying, from a man he killed who no longer exists. Except that he does.

"Why are you sorry? This is _our_ life. Your problems are my problems. And I am only sorry I haven't helped them be less than they are." 

Bull guides the knife back into the hilt. "There. Your soul is cleaned. Will you let me take you to the bathrooms here, or do you want to find somewhere in Redcliffe for me to help wash your body, too?"

The smell and the sensation and the constant, visual, visceral reminder will not be helping, he knows. But there are rituals, after battle. Rituals that may not be magic, but which are just as important. Steps to move from one state to another, to move the mind away from the horror. Bull kisses over his hair again, and runs his fingers over Dorian's cheek. "The water will help wash any tears away. It is important to feel them, when you can. When you can. I will take you somewhere safe, and you can leave the nightmare behind."

Dorian manages a nod. "Yes," he says. "Please. I… need that. But… take me outside. Down to the lake. I can't bear to be in this place a second longer than necessary."

It's a testament to how strong this feeling is that he doesn't hesitate to say it. Because the lake will be _cold_ , and it's getting dark outside. But it's not _here_ , where he can still feel the memories of that terrible future as palpably as if they were here: the scent in the air, the shiver in reality where the Veil used to be, the low, barely-perceivable thrum of the red lyrium…

"I'll need to find a towel, a blanket or a cloak… do you want me to take you when I look?" Bull doesn't think he'll want to be on his own at any point, but it's still polite to check. "I'm not letting you catch your death of cold, kadan."

"Yes. Yes." Dorian is adamant, and clearly desperate. "I don't want to be alone. From other people, sure, but not you."

Not ever again, if he can help it. He's starting to understand why Bull was so insistent upon not leaving his side after what happened with Harland, a lifetime ago. He _needs_ to see the other man there, so he doesn't have to keep reminding himself he's not dead, behind a door swarming with demons.

"Alright. Hold on tight… I'll be as quick as I can. You can hide in my neck and pretend you're asleep so you don't need to talk to anyone, if it helps." Bull kisses his cheek, and hefts him as he rises. 

It isn't too hard to find a human-sized cloak and blanket or two, which he then wraps around Dorian and hurries him outside. Away from the most obvious lines of sight, and down to one knee to lower him to the grass a few steps from the water.

"Would you like me to help you undress?"

"No, it's all right," Dorian replies, mostly because he associates Bull undressing him with far happier times, and doesn't want to connect it with this. Even if he knows there'd be nothing sexual about it right now. "But you might have to dunk me in the lake, because otherwise I'll just say it's too cold."

He starts slipping out of his clothes, hands making light work of the various buckles and clasps; pulling off his boots before he stands to let the rest drop. And… _breathing_ , as if for the first time in an age.

Bull pulls his own boots and trousers off, because he doesn't want to be piss wet through, and then holds his hands out ready. "I'll walk you in. As quick as I can. And then dry you off. It's going to hurt, because it's cold. If you need to scream, or kick, or bite… it's okay."

"Maker, I hate the south," Dorian manages, letting Bull carry him out into the water, in the light of the setting sun, and then biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood to keep from screaming in shock as he finally learns just how cold the lake really is.

It's hideous. _Hideous_. But… it's also cleansing, and _fuck_ , he needs that, and after a moment he slips out of Bull's arms just so he can let himself drop right beneath the surface… for a very, very brief instant before he leaps back up in a spray of water and turns to his lover, desperately seeking his warmth. And his comfort, too, because the cold has rapidly knocked him to shivering, and the sensation is so close to panic he's not even certain which it is anymore.

"Let me quickly scrub you," Bull offers, and rapidly rubs his hands over him, and through his hair, making sure to cover everything so he won't be left with any lingering remnants. But he goes rapidly so he isn't going to drop his core temperature too fast, and then offers his arms to help him back out again. 

"Ready, kadan?"

" _Very_ ready," Dorian replies, letting Bull lift him out of the water and carry him back to the shore, setting him down and immediately wrapping him in one of the blankets he'd brought.

It helps – it really helps – but Dorian is still shivering all over, and what he wants right now is to be held tight until the worst of the chill is out of his bones. And… then to worry about the rest.

"…you carrying me out of there in front of everyone really doesn't look good, does it?" he murmurs, his mind focusing on the small things because it can't face the big ones yet.

"It means you have someone who will take care of you, and who you trust enough to let them." Bull's voice is adamant, but level, as he sits behind him and rubs his hands over his arms and chest from over the blanket. "Everyone there knows you _helped_. Knows you saved their Herald, and probably the world. If anything, they'll be worried _about_ you. And if they look at you, don't think it's because they think you're weak. It's because they don't want you to suffer."

The boots only need a quick wipe down, so Bull puts those (and socks) back on Dorian first. Most of the outfit shouldn't be worn now, but there's plenty to salvage and there's a good chance someone could scrub the rest clean. Whether he'd want to wear them again, or not, is another matter.

"They know what you did for them, or some of it. Lavellan will fill them in on the rest. You're a goddamn hero, kadan."

Dorian curls in on himself more. "I don't feel like it. I murdered my oldest friend and abandoned my lover. And I know none of it actually happened for you, and _won't_ actually happen for you, but… it happened for me."

And it keeps happening, in his head, over and over; the mental images refusing to fade, and his well-worn instinct is screaming at him to find as much alcohol as he can, to drown it all out. He knows he mustn't, and that he probably can't, but it doesn't stop him wanting to.

"I can't imagine how that feels." Bull can't. It's one thing to live through a horrific experience, but this is – this is new, weirder shit than he's faced. "And I don't want to diminish that you went through it. But it sounds like the other me… he ran out on you, so you could come back home." 

How do you even begin to help with that? 

"It's… a nightmare. A warning. You saw it, but it isn't _real_. Not now." Bull sucks on his lip, and… "Are you… are you angry with me? For what… what 'he' did?"

" _No_ ," Dorian gasps, scrambling to throw his arms around the other man and hold on. "No. Never. I know why he did it. I know I'm probably here with you _because_ he did it. I just… I hated the thought of being so _powerless_ to help. The thought that there was ever any world, any time, any possibility, where you'd been put through such torment, it…"

He's shaking even harder, and no longer from the cold.

"…I couldn't bear it. But the worst part is, if Lavellan hadn't forced me not to chase after the other you… I probably would have. And we'd have been killed, and not made it back, and that awful future _would have happened_."

Bull is all arms and legs, and he's… alright. He's shaking more than a little, too. Because Dorian is upset, and it's making him upset, and the thought of him going through all this, and him not being there, and…

"If you hadn't come back to me, it would have been me. But you're _here_. You're here. I'm here. So… please… **be** here. We have the chance to… you…" He scrunches his hair, and breathes in, wrackingly hard. "It's not real, now. It's not. There's a million versions of us who didn't get this lucky. Don't we owe it to them to do all we can in this one?" 

It's a moment before Dorian speaks again, because the words hit him hard. When he does, he lifts his head, hands on Bull's face; pained and exhausted but desperately loving.

"You're right," he says, softly. "I just… I need you to help me stay grounded. To remind me how amazingly lucky I am to have you, and to _still_ have you, and… _fuck_ , I still have you, you're all right, I love you so much…"

He pulls the other man in and kisses him as hard as he can, rough and urgent and just needing to _feel_ him there.

Bull hopes that's a good sign. It feels like maybe it is, and if nothing else, he loves kissing him. Not just for sensual reasons, but… but things like this. Where it's emotion. Feelings that swell up too much to be held in, and it's a language all of its own. He holds his neck between his palms, and kisses back with a little growl of desperate hunger. 

He doesn't like Dorian hurting. It's worse than himself hurting, and it's pains he can't remove, and demons he can't kill. 

There's only a momentary pause before he decides instinct knows best, and he's pushed Dorian onto his back. His weight atop him, still kissing, using the position to breathe into him and press him into cold, damp grass. Not even to start anything, just… to let him feel.

"I'm alright," he rasps, when he finally can. "I'm alright, because you came _home_. And I know… I know I'd do the same again. If saying goodbye now meant I wouldn't have had to before… fuck. It makes no sense, I just… I fucking love you too much for _sense_. But you're here. You're here. And I won't let you go again."

Dorian pulls him in closer, not resisting the movement in the slightest. He isn't trying to push for anything either, but he _always_ feels better when Bull pins him down, because he feels safe, held, _kept_. Wanted. He knows he is, but the physical reminder is so very good.

"I won't let you go either," he manages. "Bad things happen when I'm not with you."

"You know… you were only gone for a heartbeat or two, and it was the _worst_ few seconds of my damn **life**." Bull is trying to joke, but weakly, as he curls into him and rubs into his cheek. "I'm afraid I've become… more than a little dependent on you. Must be all the lyrium, eh?"

"I'd like to think it was my sparkling personality and significant sexual prowess," Dorian replies, now also trying to joke but only sort of managing it. "But it could also be the lyrium. In which case, you're definitely stuck with me."

Bull's arms fold across Dorian's chest, making sure he spreads the weight and doesn't put them over his heart or lungs. And then he smiles, achingly fondly, down at him. "The significant sexual prowess is very, very appreciated. But it isn't all you are. It's a very enjoyable bonus, but I happen to love the asshole with a heart of gold, a tongue of poisoned silver, and mind fast enough to run three times around Thedas while everyone else is stuck at 'hello'."

"I suppose those _will_ be a factor as well," Dorian says, smiling just a little at the compliment. "You're a lucky man. And I should know… I'm one too."

His eyes are just as fond, and the pain in them is finally starting to reduce. It's a slow process, yes, but the contact and the reassurance are gradually bringing him back to the here and now.

"Much as I would love to list all of your redeeming qualities until we lose the sunlight… I should remind you that even I can't keep you completely warm out here. Are you ready to go back in and find something utterly _peasant_ -worthy, but very, very warm?"

Bull tickles just at Dorian's collarbones. "You know you want to insult their fashion taste. Maybe take a knife to some things and show them how you'd look better dragged backwards through a bush or ten…"

"Well, I mean, I _would_ look better…"

Dorian trails off with a sigh. "I suppose you're right. I don't exactly want to face the others right now, but I will freeze if we stay here much longer. So… we'd better go back. You know how grumpy I get when I'm cold."

He lets Bull slowly untangle them, and help him to his feet. He is at least partly-dressed, but he wraps the remaining non-damp blanket around his shoulders, just to keep out the worst of the chill as they walk back up towards the castle.

As they're heading in across the courtyard, they can see quite a number of new guards in place on the ramparts, and at the main gate, but they're not bearing Inquisition heraldry. On the contrary… that's the banner of the King of Ferelden.

"…I think we missed something big," Dorian murmurs.

Seconds later, a figure heads out of the main gate, spots them, and comes hurrying over. It's Lavellan, and she looks relieved.

"There you are," she says, "I was worried."

Bull's brows are reaching for his horns, as if they'd have some form of explanation for this. "You were worried? What the hell happened? Did some more magic shit go down?" 

Because this is – what – the third round of control in as many hours? What the shit do Fereldans _do_ when everything is so fucked up all the time?

"Everything's fine," Lavellan clarifies. "I meant I was worried about you. Both of you, but Dorian especially. What happened in there was–"

"…something I'd rather not think about again just yet," Dorian cuts in, but gently. Well-aware that the Herald's concern is genuine, and grateful for it. "But I'm all right."

This is not entirely true, but it's true enough, and the rest he'll keep between himself and Bull.

"I'm glad," Lavellan replies. "And there's been a development, but it's good. Well, mostly good. King Alistair showed up just after you left. He was not exactly pleased about Alexius having commandeered his uncle's castle, especially after having agreed to let the Circle mages shelter here. He was ready to throw everyone out, but we talked, and came to an arrangement. We've been invited to stay the night, so long as we leave tomorrow. _All_ of us. Grand Enchanter Fiona and the other mages are joining the Inquisition."

There's relief in her eyes, and hope too. "This is everything we've been working towards. With their help, we may be able to close the Breach for good."

"That… is good news. Surprisingly good news." Bull isn't used to hearing things go so well, and he bumps his fists together, shaking his shoulders out to release some of the tension that had already built up. "Alright! Don't suppose he's prepared to offer any _military_ support, eh?"

Lavellan smiles. "Sadly not, at least not yet. I imagine the arls and banns would not be pleased if the king allied with a predominately _Orlesian_ movement. But hopefully there's the possibility of support further down the line."

Maybe he could even be persuaded to get his wife to come home. The slayer of an archdemon would certainly be helpful right about now.

"For now, you at least get spared a night of camping," she adds. "The castle servants are preparing guest accommodation for us. I'm… assuming you'll be happy with that? Staying in the castle, I mean."

Dorian nods. "I wouldn't want to be here long-term, but one night… one night will be OK. And definitely a step up from camping, so I'll take it."

"Do you need anything from us tonight? I'd… like to take care of him." Bull is aware they may be ducking out of responsibilities, but he can't help but feel Dorian's done more than his fair share. 

Plus, they both volunteered. Okay, so the _Chargers_ are getting paid, but that's because he needs his kids to eat, but Bull isn't – ahem – charging. 

"No," Lavellan replies. "No, you should take some time to rest. Today was… difficult… and I want you both to be as all right as possible. Just remember, this was a victory, and a large part of that is because of the two of you."

That helps, in a way. The knowledge that all the suffering they went through wasn't for nothing.

They take their leave of the Herald and head up into the castle, where one of the servants directs them along to a large and grand guest bedroom, with a four-poster bed, and a fire flickering in the grate, filling the space with welcome warmth. Their packs have been left near the bed, along with some clean clothing, and a tray of food and drink.

"…I'm re-evaluating my feelings on Fereldan hospitality," Dorian manages.

"Told you. Though… this place _does_ normally host the king's uncle. So this is a bit more than you'd get in most places…" 

Bull – ever the domestic – puts some of their things on a clothes horse, close to the fire, to warm through. "But even so, this was good of them. I suspect if they'd worried they were about to be sold into slavery, or worse, that they're grateful for us." He looks up from his fussing. "Would you like to sit by the fire and try a small meal? Your stomach must be empty, and if you can manage a few bites, I think it will improve your mood."

"I think you're right," Dorian agrees. In truth, he feels more than a little sick, but that might be as much from hunger as anything else, because… well, he's been on the go rather longer than most people, on account of the time travel, and he's not sure how many hours it's actually _been_ for him since he last ate.

Also he wants to be as close to the fire as possible, to get the last of the cold out. That will help a lot, too. And… he wants to feel better. He does. Not just because he doesn't like feeling awful, but also because he's aware of how much it's hurting Bull, and he hates the thought of _that_ even more than usual.

He brings over some of the food for them both, settling in one of the chairs by the fire and just closing his eyes for a moment, letting the warmth wash over him.

Bull fusses again, this time taking one of the blankets that's been left and draping it over Dorian's shoulders. "You'll find, if nothing else, that people who live in the cold know how to provide for it. How to dress, how to keep the hearth lit…"

When he thinks he's taken as much care as possible, he eases himself into the other chair. Toes off both boots, and stretches his legs out. There's a few pops, but there usually are. Comes with the surviving of years of battles, he supposes. A few hunks of bread with the cheese and salted meat, and he's sighing in contentment. 

"Not that I'm saying we settle this far south. But man, it's not so bad here. Shame we only have the night."

"I'm not exactly eager to stay any longer than necessary," Dorian replies, though of course that's not because of the hospitality. "But it is good to be inside sturdy, stone walls. I miss proper architecture…"

He eats a little, and it does help, and once he's done he curls up in the chair more, pulling the blanket in tighter. And… for once, not quite knowing what to say. Though… perhaps the exhaustion plays a part in that.

"Kadan?"

"Yes, amatus?"

"Tell me… tell me what our home will look like?" Bull partially wants to distract him, it's true, but also it helps to have something positive to look forwards to.

Not to mention he loves listening to him. To the sound of his voice, and to the things that voice will come out with. 

"It will be beautiful," Dorian answers. He's had images in his mind for some time, so it isn't hard to conjure them up now, and though he has no way of knowing if he'll ever be able to make them a reality, it's good to have something to aim for. "Built of pale stone, set in gardens filled with flowers and fountains. A central atrium, airy and light, with couches where you could just sit and read for hours. A library… oh, amatus, I miss having a library… the shelves lined with books on magic, and history, and politics, and everything in-between. A _huge_ bedroom, with an equally-huge bed, covered in soft cushions and silken sheets… mmmmmm."

He sounds dreamy. "And everywhere, things that represent both of us. Maybe some weapons on the walls. Rooms for the Chargers to sleep in, when they're visiting. A _really_ well-stocked wine and ale cellar. Oh, and a kitchen fit for the top-notch pastry chef I'll be hiring to make sure you _never_ want for petits-fours again…"

"You've planned it all," Bull 'scolds', with unmistakable indulgence dripping from every word. "You forgot the smithy, apothecary, and the tailor, surely?"

But it does sound nice. "And a second room with a bed in, with… extra things?" He can't help suggesting it, grinning as he does. "I like both. And you do, too."

That makes Dorian smile. "The secret dungeon was supposed to be a _surprise_ ," he says, almost coyly. "And yes, the other things too. A large dining area so we can throw parties for people we like. A whole room filled with _outfits_ , oh…"

"That one will be for you," Bull agrees. "Maybe I'll have a closet. But I will have a whole room for weapons, and there should be somewhere for dancing… somewhere for sparring… and I'll want to break every room in. Or… you in every room…" 

He stands, stretching, and then cocks his head. "Want to put the night clothes on and curl up? I want to hear about these parties, and they're already warmed…" 

"Mmmmm… probably should," Dorian concedes. "Before I fall asleep here…"

But falling asleep in bed with Bull would be even nicer, so he slowly extricates himself from the chair and starts to undress, and… OK, wait has Bull ever even _seen_ him in nightwear? Given their track record so far, the other man has probably seen him naked more than he's seen him clothed…

"…kadan?" Bull has already picked the shirt up, and walks over, placing a kiss to the back of his neck. "Everything okay?" 

A little delirious from exhaustion – and the stress of the day – Dorian suddenly giggles. "I was just thinking about how you've probably seen me naked more than clothed," he says. "And now you're putting me in _Fereldan pyjamas_ and I'm not even arguing… what did you _do_ to me?"

Bull snorts, then lifts the shirt over his head, and guides his arms through. "I took _care_ of you. And it's hardly my fault you look so good with nothing on… but right now I need you wrapped up and toasty. Doricicles are no fun." 

Next come the (admittedly not that flattering but warm flannel) pyjama bottoms. He holds the first leg out for him to slip into. "And you'll still be sexy in these. Hell, you could wear an outfit made of cured bacon and I'd want to rip it off you… and _then_ do you…" 

"…I am vetoing that one on principle," Dorian replies, flatly. "Flannel I may consent to in private, but I draw the line at _meat_. In fact, I draw the line some distance _before_ meat. I have plenty of less-weird ways to drive you wild."

He does like being taken care of, though. A lot. And the gentle contact is really helping to ground him back in reality.

"Can't say it's what I'd go for, either. Was just pointing out you'd be the hottest thing to rock a potato sack if you tried." Bull finishes dressing him, then hooks a finger under his chin to tilt his head up. 

"We're getting married. So, guess I should get used to seeing you in clothes… even in bed." He bends slightly to kiss his nose. "And that starts… now!" Which is when he throws Dorian over his shoulder, and then carries him the short distance to drop him onto the bed, and then grabs the blankets and forcefully rolls his mage up in them, so only his head sticks out of the top. "Heh. Sausage."

"…I'd complain, but it's warm," Dorian grouses, trying to look sullen. "And you're right. I'm the hottest thing in _any_ outfit. Now come here and hold me before I forget I like you."

"When I'm ready," Bull agrees, easing out of what he considers to be clothing. He hangs things up, and… "Afraid they didn't give me pyjamas. Guess they don't entertain people from the Qun that often… hmm…"

Bull stoops to investigate his pack, and grabs some fresh shorts. Those will do. He slips them on, and then goes to 'his' side of the bed, before grabbing the Dorian-roll and squeezing. "Like this?"

"Yes. Like that." Dorian still looks sullen, although it might just be tiredness. "Now don't go anywhere." A breath, and the emotion pokes through. "… _please_."

"I'll find a bedpan if I need a piss," Bull promises, and kisses a sulky cheek from the top of the blankets. "And if you need to piss, and I'm holding you too tightly… do let me know." 

"You know me," Dorian says, with a yawn, "I'm very vocal. If I have complaints, I won't keep them to myself…"

He snuggles in closer – as much as is possible when he's wrapped up like this – and his mind is already starting to go hazy, his head drooping onto Bull's chest more and more.

Bull runs his hand up and down Dorian's spine, trying to unwind him further. "I know you won't. Another reason why I love you. The only thing you lie about is how much you like spotted dick." 

"…don't even joke about that, we almost died…" Dorian murmurs, sounding _very_ serious. "Wretched peasants, trying to murder me…"

"That was your alcoholism, not the peasants, kadan." A kiss to his ear. "You enjoyed it so much you passed out. Maybe I should be jealous… you don't pass out so quickly from _my_ dick."

"Yeah, but have you _ever_ heard me beg for that ridiculous pudding since? No. Exactly. _Your_ dick, on the other hand…"

Honestly, he'd beg for it right now if the room wasn't going blurry.

"Well… that's true. Still think you'd enjoy it if you had it again." Bull's voice is lower, softer, his movements soothing and in synch with his voice as he lulls him closer to sleep. "You can remind me tomorrow." 

"I will… will remind you tomorrow…" Dorian says, sounding so far away. "Remind you… always…"

And he drifts off, sleep finally claiming him.

Bull kisses him, one more time, hoping it will echo into the Fade with him. "I know you will," he whispers. He won't sleep until he's sure Dorian is not trapped in terrible nightmares, but just holding him is restful enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Stick around, dear readers, because we'll be back!
> 
> :-)


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